


A View Of The Stars

by Lyetta



Series: Starlight Sequence [1]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Complete, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Romance, Self-Harm, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2020-10-14 18:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 35,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20605490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyetta/pseuds/Lyetta
Summary: COMPLETEA modern re-telling of A Court of Thorns and Roses. Rating is mostly T but I have put E for some chapters, from chapter 9 onwards..o0O0o.I thought that nothing could capture my attention like sunlight but recently I’ve found a new obsession, more subtle than sunlight - starlight. Maybe I needed to be older to appreciate it; after all, what is starlight except older light from another sun? Or maybe I first needed to know darkness.





	1. Jobs

**Chapter 1**

_The rock that now lives on my finger would have fed my family and kept them warm for more than a year. It would have kept Nesta from missing our old life and given Elain the garden of her dreams. My father could have done as he pleased – done nothing most likely. I could have stayed in school._

_And beyond all of that, there could even have been some money spare for paint, more colours than I’d ever had access to at home, and some canvas to paint onto. _

_The happiness that would have brought me - my family safe and time to paint - I cannot even imagine. Some small part of me wonders if I should be feeling that sort of happiness now._

_Because beyond this ring, thanks to him my family _is_ safe and an easel stands beside the window with painting supplies still in thin plastic wrappings. I have everything I wanted._

_Yet somehow happiness remains out of my reach._

*** * ***

Monday morning begins before I have fully shaken off Sunday's night shift at the superstore. I like the late night shelf stacking, especially the money it brings home. I like the quiet, solitude of it. And the way it leaves my body feeling tired enough that any anger Nesta might have drawn from me at home dies before it rises.

However, I do not like the lack of sleep my mind will need to adjust to. And quickly. Now that skipping class or sleeping through lectures will no longer be an option.

I have left college mid-term and any hope of further qualifications with it. My chances were never all that great to begin with, barely leaving high school with anything of note due to my difficulties reading. Thank God for computers and whoever came up with the application that will read text aloud to you. Thank God for word processors that can hide my inability to spell or write legibly.

These are silent prayers and the irony is not lost on me as I pass into the headquarters of Spring Publishing (job number three), where I will be spending most of my time in this new, post-education life. 

It seems that I have landed on my feet. I’m starting as an assistant in the art department, which is basically my dream job, if I’d ever had the time to come up with one that is - I live in the moment, dreaming is a luxury.

I am met by Alis, who interviewed me three weeks ago and now gives me a tour of the building. When it comes to which department is where, I am lost immediately but I know that I could quickly find a way out of here, if I needed to. 

This is another thing that I will never admit to: I never enter a room without counting the exits or memorising the route back to the outside world - survival techniques from my past, hopefully never to be needed again.

I’ll never forget Alis calling to offer me the job – illiterate me working for one of the largest publishing houses in Velaris! Not that they know of course, I have had years of practice at blending in and helping people to make the ‘right’ assumptions about me – another survival technique. No one in this world is going to give me a leg up, I have to find (and fight for) my own opportunities.

It is a busy day that passes in a blur, and there is still more paperwork for me to struggle through this evening. Yet I feel content. This is a life I can handle and the generous salary is a weight off my shoulders. Money has been tight for a few months now. 

Spring Publishers are employing me from 8am until 3pm. I’m happy with the part-time role as it means I can still put in four hours at the bar before my shelf stacking shift begins at 11pm. 

_So when will you be doing that paperwork?_ I sigh inwardly, knowing that the choice is between when I get home in the wee hours of the morning or the slightly-later wee hours when I get up to be ready for work tomorrow.

Maybe three jobs _is_ unsustainable. Maybe we could get by if I dropped the shelf stacking… maybe Nesta or Elain or, God forbid, my father could get a job! It is more likely that we will win the lottery - though I won’t hold my breath, I’ve heard a rumour that you need to actually _enter_ the lottery in order to win.

Thoughts of money leave my mind as if they had been made from tissue paper and someone had thrown in a lit match. Specifically, a tall, blonde-haired _someone_, with a face that you could launch a modelling agency with.

He has just come out of the office ahead of me and I find myself walking behind him and an equally good-looking redhead. They take a left and I surprise myself by turning too, no more than a pace behind them and with absolutely no idea where I am going!

I would believe this of my sisters but I never would have believed it of myself. Stalking a handsome man at the office! And on my first day no less!

But, as we approach a set of elevators, I realise that my luck is soon to run out. I wait quietly behind them, half listening to their conversation (about a book cover design) and half formulating a plan to go one floor up, get out and come straight back down, when the redhead turns to me, russet eyes sharp and impatient.

“Can we help you Ms…?” he asks in a tone that implies only the answer ‘no’ will be acceptable.

I oblige, smiling back at him as I say, “Ms Archeron. And no, thank you, I’m just waiting for the elevator.”

Triumph blooms across his face. “_This_ elevator?” He nods to the one by which all three of us are waiting.

I nod, sensing a trap but seeing no way to avoid it.

“Well, I’m afraid _this_ elevator goes only to the executive floor. The one _you_ need is over there.”

The way he’d said ‘_you_’ had my blood boiling but before I can really put my foot in it, with any of the possible rude retorts currently flying through my brain, the blonde-haired vision murmurs, “_Lucien,_” and then holds out his hand to me. “I’m Tamlin. I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

“Feyre. And you wouldn’t have, I only started today.” Smiling at Lucien I add, “hence the confusion with the elevators.”

Tamlin chuckled. “And how are you finding it?”

“It’s wonderful, everyone is being really friendly,” I risk another look at Lucien, which earns me another laugh from Tamlin and raised eyebrows from his friend.

“Is this your first job Feyre?” Lucien asks, which raises my hackles again, my age being one of the things I often find myself having to defend. But I am spared from answering him by their lift arriving.

“It was nice to meet you,” Tamlin says, smiling, and I have eyes only for him as the doors close between us.

Turning back down the corridor, I decide to count the whole meeting as a success, especially as I hadn’t needed to go up and down a floor needlessly.

Until a horrible feeling settles in my gut.

Tamlin.

As in Tamlin Spring.

As in CEO of Spring Publishing.

_Shit_.

.o0O0o.

The bar is quiet tonight, even for a Monday evening, and thankfully I get a few moments to scan through the documents Alis had asked me to complete by tomorrow. From what I can tell, I only need to sign my name is three places but I _will_ read it all. I learn by my mistakes, or in this case, by my father’s mistakes: sign nothing before you read it through.

Because business is slow, the kitchen’s spare me a plate of chips. I am always grateful for free food; there have been days, in the not-so-distant-past, when this handout would have been my only meal.

When 10:30 comes around I have the energy needed to walk the two blocks over to the superstore but I’m dead on my feet as I arrive. Tired enough to lean on a shelf and fall asleep. Maybe with the sliced bread as a pillow…?

Yes three jobs _is_ going to be a challenge. What’s new?

Eventually, I stagger home and close our front door without a sound. My father and Elain are asleep but a light still shines from under Nesta’s door. I knock softly.

I hear a huff as she gets up and crosses the room to reach her door. “What?” she snaps. Luckily, I had no illusions of anything like ‘how was your first day?’ or ‘wow three jobs Feyre, let me get you a cup of tea’.

I answer these unspoken questions anyway, partly to annoy her. “I’m fine, thanks Nesta. Three jobs in one day was tough but I really think I’m going to like working at Spring Publishing.”

My sister scowls at me and growls in reply, “is that it? Did you really need to disturb me just for that?”

I look at my feet and shrug, “You’re up late. I just wanted to check everything was ok.”

“If there was anything to say to you, we’d have written you a note.” And with that she closes the door in my face. I bite back the nasty remarks and remind myself that she wasn’t being intentionally unkind. Not on one count at least.

Neither of my sisters has ever noticed that I cannot read.

.o0O0o.

I finish my first week at Spring with a spring in my step. 

Yes, I am overwhelmed with new information and yes, I am as tired as I have any memory of being, but this is a job with a future. One day I might not be just answering the phone and doing runs to either the photocopier or the coffee shop. One day I might be designing the cover art for a new book, sketching the illustrations, choosing the paper and bindings, creating the perfect font…

I regularly loose myself in these daydreams and more. They have been getting me out of bed early each morning and through a working day that stretches into the next morning. They get me off to sleep with a smile. 

A future - I’d never before let myself think I _had_ a future. But one day, things really will be better. Elain and Nesta will move out soon and even if they continue not supporting themselves I have hope, from their endless talk of men, that someone else might share that responsibility with me. My father will likely never work again but when there are only two of us at home I won’t need three pay checks each month. Maybe in a year, I’ll just be working full-time at Spring.

And I’ll have what I’ve always wanted – _time_. Time for me, time to paint, time to live a little.

.o0O0o.

Friday nights at Bryaxis are always loud and busy. Though we have extra staff on for this shift, I know I can’t rely as heavily on the student part-timers – to them this is just drinking money and their continuous clock watching drives me mad. Or it would, if I had the time to notice!

Yet life has been going so well for me this week that even four hours pulling pints and cleaning tables doesn’t knock the smile from my face. 

No, the three idiots who grab me as I leave for the night are responsible for that.


	2. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre finds herself in need of rescuing.

**Chapter 2**

_Velaris has always been my home and I feel privileged to have seen it in all lights. Literally. I used to love the way the rising sun illuminated the once-blue paint of my family’s front door. Even now, those first rays seem to breathe fresh life into everything they touch, including me. _

_The way the sun alone can change the colour or even the texture of the stone and brickwork across the city has the power to take away my thoughts and fill me with a burning need. I must have been younger than ten the first time I felt it. I didn’t understand, when I was younger, but this ‘need’ was the need to paint. _

_Sunlight was my first muse, my first teacher, my introduction to colour. Over the years it has called me across the road to look closer at a building, laughed at me as it danced from leaf to leaf and tree to tree, whispered to me from the ever changing surface of the Sidra. _

_I thought that nothing could capture my attention like sunlight but recently I’ve found a new obsession, more subtle than sunlight: starlight. _

_However tired I may be, I am never anything but grateful for the opportunity to see this city by starlight. Each star contributing to a complex array of lights, made possible only by darkness. _

_Maybe I needed to be older to appreciate it – after all, what is starlight except older light from another sun? _

_Or maybe I first needed to know darkness._

***

“Come with us sweetheart!” The first man laughs, his breath a warm wave of alcohol in my face. Another calls to me by name but I don’t recognise any of them from the bar. His grip on my arm is tight enough to bruise yet poorly placed - if I wasn’t so physically drained, I think I could have fought him off…

But not all three of them.

I have always been on the small side and a lack of food in recent years hasn’t helped me to build up any significant upper body strength, even with the shelf stacking.

I wriggle anyway, no chance will I make this easy for him! And I swear at them all with every curse word I know for good measure.

They are all laughing now, guiding me towards the alley beside the bar. There is a small chance that a co-worker on a break will be there, having a secret smoke, but I can’t bank on that. Arsehole number two holds me by the shoulder while the third plays with my hair.

I fight back with my feet and elbows now, to avoid the darkness they are dragging me closer and closer to. Soon I will be out of sight from the street...

I’m about to scream for help and hope someone in Bryaxis will hear, when another man steps out from that darkness ahead. Somehow, I know instinctively that this man is _not_ with the other three.

He is the most handsome man I have ever seen.

“There you are,” he says, with eyes just for me. “I’ve been looking for you.” The man on my left side lets go of me and steps away; the other two follow his example. I can feel them all rapidly sobering up as my rescuer walks towards us. He looks at them for the first time and they shrink under his glare. “Let’s assume that you were not about to force my lady into that alley with you, because if that _had_ been your intention I guarantee that it would have ended badly for all of you." He pauses, letting his words sink in. Then, "It’s time for us to go now, make sure you _never_ come back.”

_My lady?_

Gently, I feel his hand take mine and I allow him to lead us down the street. I watch my three would-be attackers evaporate into the city’s back streets. Hopefully they will do as they were told and stay away but I make a point to remember their faces just in case.

With my breathing returning to normal, I pull my hand free of my rescuer’s loose hold. “I’m fine from here.”

He chuckles, slipping his hands into his pockets and falling into step beside me. “Of course you are.” By his tone, he was clearly amused but, oddly, it didn’t feel like an insult.

We walk together, turning into the next street. It’s an almost comfortable silence. Almost. Comfortable enough for him, it seems, as it is me who breaks it. “So you just lurk in the shadows do you, waiting to play the hero?”

He smiles widely at me and in the glare of a street light his eyes look almost purple. _Impossible._ “You’re welcome,” he says and I am calm enough now to feel slightly ashamed at not having said thank you before. But only slightly ashamed, since he is so clearly enjoying himself.

We reach the superstore before I can come up with a reply. I stop and he does too, though I can see confusion in his face. “I work here.” I say in explanation but his confusion doesn’t clear.

“I thought you worked at the bar?”

_How-_ I brush the question aside. “I do,” I answer. Short and simple. _Now go,_ I wish inside my head.

He smiles again, as though he can read my mind. “Two jobs,” he says looking me up and down, “interesting.” Then he starts to leave and my guilt returns.

“Wait!” My cheeks flame red under the scrutiny of his eyes once more. “Thank you.”

He bows, a huge grin plastered across his face, “Anytime.” 

This time I let him go without a word and I wait to see him turn the corner before I go inside to begin stacking shelves.

.o0O0o.

Another full week passes at work before I see Tamlin again.

Our eyes meet across the vast open space formally known as reception. I watch as he breaks off his conversation. I put away the papers I had been looking through as he walks towards me.

“Hello again.”

“Hello,” I smile up at him. His is a face to smile at, though I think it could be a face to fear as well. A dark thought, which I quickly put away.

“Do you feel like you have you settled in, Feyre?” I am surprised at him remembering my name, I hope my face doesn’t show it.

“Yes, thank you. I feel like I could have been working here for years.” It was almost true.

“Alis speaks highly of you.” This time I know my surprise is visible. He continues, “I meet with her and the other heads of department on Thursday mornings, she mentioned how well you seemed to be settling in. And that you’re a hard worker.” I can’t remember receiving praise such as this; it makes a deep part of me glow with pride. To be noticed!

“That’s kind of her,” I hear myself say.

“And just, I should think.” Tamlin offers me his arm. Taking it we walk away from the noise of reception and out into a small courtyard.

A large rose bush is trained to the wall next to a white wooden bench, we stop beside it. “I’d like a meeting with you myself - to discuss your options here at Spring Publishing.”

My jaw falls open and Tamlin laughs, pushing it closed with one finger. I blush and look away. “That’s very kind Tamlin, but I’ve only been here for two weeks and I know you have better things to do than meet with me.”

“I disagree. This company’s greatest assets are the people who work here. _You_ are our greatest asset.” I give him a smile, recognising it for a compliment but something about his words leaves me feeling off, like he thinks that I am an object to be valued. “I’d like to talk about promotion, I don’t think it is too soon. Let’s meet on Friday at midday - have lunch with me Feyre?” His eyes twinkle as he waits for an answer.

My smile is more genuine this time. “Ok, lunch on Friday it is.”


	3. Lunch Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre has lunch with Tamlin

**Chapter 3**

_A bay window with a cushioned seat offers me a fantastic view of the city. _

_To my left the Illyrian mountains rise towards the sky, their tops occasionally obscured by clouds. In front of me is the city itself, with its mix of older townhouses and newer buildings, like this one, carefully blended together. On my right I see field after field stretch out, a patchwork of wildness and farm land, right out to the sea. And running through it all – the Sidra, its twinkling blue surface seeming to be a living thing in its own right, laughing at our short mortal lives._

_Once a panoramic view like this would have had me reaching for a pencil or paint. Now there is only emptiness in that part of my heart. And grief, for a person who no longer exists._

_I press my forehead to the glass, entertained for a minute by the thought that if this cold transparent barrier were to vanish, I would fall the many stories to the concrete below. I would fly and be free. _

_And then die._

_Blinking away a lone tear, I focus on the street below. On the people who I know intimately and yet had never met. _

_There is Flossy walking slowly to work at the florist, having one more smoke before the day begins. And Andres, parking his car in a side street with a four hour limit. He’ll be back at lunch to move it round the corner. And Hazel with her daughter Dafne, waiting at the bus shelter opposite this building, and looking, with increasing agitation, at her watch. _

Don’t worry Hazel_ I think, _the bus is only one stop away._ I can see it past the bend in the road due to my elevated position, though she cannot. She would get Dafne to childcare on time. I almost share in her relief, like we are truly friends._

_How many days have I sat here and longed to wait at a shelter such as that, just to curse the bus for its tardiness? Too many days, I’ve lost count._

_How I long to smile at a stranger on the street. Or to meet these people whose lives I imagine; to know their real names, hear their true stories and feel connected to the world once again._

***

My body seems to be coping with the reduction in sleep since I run on adrenaline and enthusiasm these days!

I work hard at Spring Publishing, where every encouraging nod from Alis seems to trigger a firework display inside my head. I’ve never felt like I was worth something before, never felt valued, and I am desperate not to let anyone down.

Leaving work at the office is impossible. Whether I am at Bryaxis, the superstore or at home, I am turning over every moment of my day, thinking through all our open projects and imaging myself at the centre of it all - and with Tamlin’s approval.

Days pass me by in a blur, though still not as fast as I would like. By the time Thursday evening comes around, work-related thoughts have given way entirely to daydreaming about guess who. I am cleaning glasses behind the bar, while thinking about tomorrow: our planned lunch together, a chance to spend more time in his company...

I look up from my daydream to find the bar stool in front of me occupied. And my breath catches.

"There you are," he says and from his expression I know he has deliberately used the same line as when we first met. My dark-haired rescuer. The handsome stranger whose eyes, I am surprised to find, really are violet.

I throw him a tight, wary smile - with a man like this there is always a game. Below the bar my hands grip the wooden shelf tightly, steadying myself. I will not let him see my hands shaking.

"Hello darling."

"_Darling_?" I splutter.

"Well, what else should I call you? We were never properly introduced."

I intentionally ignore his question and say flatly, "No, we weren't. What can I get you?"

A cat-like expression tells me that he is enjoying the challenge and not put off one bit. "What would you recommend?"

I look down at the empty glass in front of me but his laugh cuts through my thoughts, as if he can see the tempting image passing through my mind: of me spitting in the glass and handing it to him. "Just a glass of wine, please darling."

I return with his drink, knowing that he has been watching me the whole time, his head propped up on his long, interlinked fingers. The smile he gives me as he takes the glass makes much stomach clench.

Swirling his wine and watching the dark liquid rise up the sides in an infinite loop around the glass, he says slowly, "So you work here and you work at the superstore five minutes away.” His eyes meet mine. “What do you do with the rest of your time?"

I laugh at the answer I know I will give him. He is surprisingly easy to talk to, if a little irritating. "I work," I reply and leave him (to serve another customer) with a frown creasing that beautiful forehead while he puzzles it out.

When I'm done serving I don't return immediately, trying to keep my distance. Yet even though he doesn't call me over, his eyes draw me back to him. It’s like there is an invisible line between us on which he can tug.

"You have three jobs," he tells me proudly, the answer to the riddle. But when I nod his smile fades. "So many jobs, so little time for yourself."

"I'm fine." I cut across his rambling reflection on my life and look up at the clock, "and I'm done here for tonight. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

"Let me walk you to your next job-" but I cut him off an icy look which has him putting up both hands in defeat. "Until next time then." 

The handsome stranger, with his promise of _next time,_ holds my attention for the duration of my walk. Yet as I begin to restock shelves I can’t help returning to thoughts of Tamlin and tomorrow’s lunch – what? Date? Meeting?

The latter of course, but in my fantasies it becomes the former. I feel the echo of his soft finger against my chin. I imagine the way his large hands would cup my face and draw me to him for – _Stop_.

I shake my head to clear the image only for another similar image to replace it: Tamlin shaking his shoulder length blonde hair about his face, my hands running through that hair, pulling him towards me…

Helpless to stop it, I indulge in fantasy after fantasy and count down the time (only twelve hours now) until I would be with him.

.o0O0o.

On Friday morning, I count myself lucky that my wardrobe is so limited. My choice really comes down to a loose white shirt and tight black jeans or a blue skirt than falls to just below the knee with a sleeveless black top, which I liked for its small silver buttons that reminded me of stars.

Remembering that I will need to go directly to the bar after work, I go with the first option. 

I work with Alis on the final touches of a book cover, tracing the delicate embossed image with a finger and wondering why I had never thought to combine colour and texture in this way.

Seeing my interest, Alis talks me through the design process and the reasons for picking out one aspect of the image over another. Her experience in marketing and sales gives me a different perspective from my purely aesthetic appreciation of the work. 

An interdepartmental memo arrives for me at 11am and, suspecting who it would be from, I fight the trembling of my fingers to open it. 

** Feyre, **  
** Looking forward to meeting with you at 12 noon.**  
** Lunch provided.  
** ** Tamlin**

Nothing I didn’t already know but a shiver of anticipation travels up my spine nonetheless. 

That final hour crawls by (and I admit my hard working attitude may have a slipped a notch) until, finally, I'm shown into his office. 

I knew he was the CEO and of course his office would be huge, but seriously - this office is _huge_. The solid oak desk alone must have cost more than all our furniture at home put together. On my left is a wall of the glass-fronted bookcases. On my right, a large table surrounded by eight high backed chairs that would be perfect for strategic meetings though it currently displays a feast - has Tamlin invited others to this meeting?

I push past my growing anxiety and note the open door to an adjoining, more private meeting room. And, finally, smile at the pair of fabric sofas set around a large window with stunning views over Velaris - the sort of views only significant amounts of money can buy.

It is awe inspiring. As is Tamlin himself, today in a three piece suit with his hair tied back. 

"Welcome,” he says, gesturing me to the table. And the food. 

“Are we expecting anyone else?” I ask with a wry look on my face. The way he is concentrating only on me has wiped away my worry that our meeting is not exclusive. 

He smiles softly as he replies, “I wasn’t sure what you’d want, so I ordered some of everything.”

I should be disgusted with the blatant disregard of the food waste this lunch will generate but his hand takes mine and I can only process the way his warm skin slides across my palm. His fingers are so smooth that I feel self-conscious of my harder, calloused skin. 

We talk shop while we eat. I effuse about my time at Spring so far, the projects I am working on. And he tells me a little of his past - how he took over the company after his father’s death, how it wasn’t what he had wanted for himself but he now enjoys the challenges and rewards. 

As we finish our food the tone turns serious. Tamlin moves his chair so that he is facing me and as a result we end up much closer than we’d been moments before. His voice is soft. “I want to offer you a job.”

“But I already work here,” I laugh, though his face is unchanging.

“I want you to be my personal secretary.”

I freeze. Where is this coming from?

Would he be making this offer if he knew how little my formal education had given me? He knows my qualifications but no CV lists a person’s failings. What if I accept this position only to expose my flaws and ultimately lose everything? 

While I am thinking, Tamlin continues his pitch, stating the salary and other benefits but he interrupts my thoughts to ask, “Where do you live?” I tell him of the small neighbourhood on the far side of Velaris but I have hardly finished when he begins shaking his head. “I need you closer than that. There is an apartment in my building that comes with the job, I’d like you to move there. Next week would be ideal." 

My mind is reeling. “I don’t know what to say-”

“Say yes. You’re perfect.” 

He catches my eye and holds the contact until my face feels warm and I hear myself whisper, “Yes.”

Because being nearer to _him_ is worth the risk.

For the rest of our time together we hardly mention the job, Tamlin insisting on getting to know the 'real me'... There is much that I leave out. 

Although I hate any conversation that is focused on me, I am surprised at how often Tamlin makes me smile and laugh. How quickly the time passes. And how close we are now sitting. Close enough for Tamlin to be drawing light patterns on my knee through the fabric of my trousers - when had his hand moved there? 

He seems to have the ability to take the fight out of me. It feel good.

What does not feel as good is Lucien’s face when I pass him going into Tamlin’s office as I leave. It tells me two things very clearly: firstly, his feelings about me are unchanged; and secondly, he knows about the position Tamlin has offered me and disapproves. 


	4. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre has problems at home on her mind.

**Chapter 4**

_I eat so little food these days that my body has adapted not to expect it or even get hungry. I gave up eating when the sight of every meal coming back up begged the question: what was the point of eating it in the first place?_

_The person in the mirror is a stranger. The hollowed face, the arms and legs withered into twigs, the clothing that falls like a curtain, hiding the way skin is now pulled tight over bones._

_It’s like I’m waiting to see what will happen first - my body wasting away to nothing or my mind. This feels like an abstract question, about someone or something faraway. A question that I’m interested in the outcome of, but only in a disinterested sort of way._

_It hardly matters which of my mind or body gives in earlier. The person I used to be gave up on living weeks ago._

*** 

I give notice for both my other jobs on the same day that Tamlin offers me the role of his personal secretary. Two weeks to be free of the shelf stacking – bring on the early nights! Another fortnight after that will see an end to my contract at the bar. And then I will be working exclusively at Spring Publishing - and earning more than my three current jobs combined. Life is looking up. Finally!

Arriving home in such an unusually positive mood should have been a warning in itself. It's like my recent good fortune has brought on the hell waiting for me here.

The universe reminds me that what it gives with one hand, it always takes with another. A lesson I should have learnt before now.

My dad is a heap of limbs, stained clothing and vomit, slumped in the kitchen doorway. Whether he was on his way to get more alcohol or returning empty handed, maybe due to my regular efforts to keep this place dry, I can’t tell.

My first worry is always the same, that his airway will be blocked and I will be hours too late to save him from choking. It is a fate that regularly features in my own nightmares. To be running out of air and unable to do anything about it…

But his head is tilted to one side at an angle that looks positioned. Deliberate.

_Nesta_. It would be just her style to help him _only_ once he was already unconscious. And then, probably only so she can torment him when he wakes. I can’t stand their one-sided rows, mostly because I can’t dispute anything that Nesta says only the cruelty with which she says it. And dad’s near silence just encourages her.

On days like this I almost hate my sisters. Maybe I am being unfair but neither Nesta or Elain will deal with dad in this state. Neither of them would be half-carrying, half-dragging him down the corridor to the bathroom, stripping him down to his boxers and then propping him up in the shower until all the sick and grime has disappeared down the drain.

Guilt floods me as I remember how easily I agreed to move out of here, how much I _wanted_ to move out.

Tamlin has asked me to live in his building, close enough to be on-call whenever he needs me. And he wants me to move by the end of next week. Maybe I should have argued against it, I could be on-call from here...

Sitting on the bathroom floor while the shower runs, I go through memory after memory of similar evenings. _How_ could I have agreed to leave?

I’m needed here.

.o0O0o.

It is due to further guilt, this time over not being able to even _tell_ my family that I will soon be leaving them, that I end up back at Bryaxis for most of Saturday and Sunday. I rarely do the weekend shifts, unless Bill is short on staff and asks me nicely. I always say yes if he asks, I will always owe him for giving me this job and looking out for me.

But right now I’m offering. And something about the change in my behaviour since Friday night has Bill frowning at me. He gives me a look, eyebrows raised and face full of concern, but I shake my head. I don’t want to talk, I just want to work. 

.o0O0o.

By Monday morning I am still worrying over dad’s condition. He hasn’t left his room all weekend and though I know there is no alcohol in there with him, this isolation is never a good sign. A hand on my shoulder brings me back to the world of publishing.

“Congratulations,” Alis says quietly, with a genuine smile. I can’t stop my cheeks from heating; I never would have expected other people to know so soon.

“Thanks,” I manage and watch as she heads off towards her office, suddenly sad that my time in her team will be so short. Tamlin had wanted me to start upstairs immediately but I argued that another week with Alis in the Art Department could only help now that I need to better understand the company. He reluctantly agreed and I feel grateful all over again as I sit at my desk, on my last Monday morning in this role. My last Monday as this person.

Lunchtime brings another interdepartmental message, this time from the site team who also manage Tamlin’s building. The keys to my apartment are ready anytime and I can gain access to my new home from Saturday.

In five day’s time.

I really should have argued to delay the move as well as the start date. 

.o0O0o. 

I get through to Wednesday lunchtime, managing to keep my home life headache contained to inside my head. I can feel how on edge I am, how fragile my sense of control, but I'm hiding it well. And then Lucien turns up.

He comes down to the Art Department with more details about the job change and even though his tone grates on my nerves I listen and keep my answers short or non-verbal where I can. All emotions are contained! I’m ready to salute myself and my professional attitude -

Then he drops the bomb. “I don’t know why you’ve even accepted this post; you’re clearly not up to it.”

_Enough. _

“How would you know what I can and can’t do? You’ve spent all of five minutes getting to know me!” Lucien’s eyes widen as speak and though his lips part in surprise, he doesn’t try to interrupt. “_You_ may have so many opportunities in your life that you can pick and choose between them, but I haven’t. In my world, people accept a good opportunity when it’s offered. And I’m certainly not going to turn it down just because you have some issues. Take it up with Tamlin or get over it, your choice.”

My volume control is on the blink, I’m nearly shouting. Most of the office is out for lunch but those still here are staring in our direction. Still, it feels good to be angry at someone other than myself.

Eventually he responds, “I say what I see.”

“Good,” I spit back at him, “Then so will I.” I snatch my water bottle from the desk and head to the courtyard, leaving Lucien alone at my work station - no doubt deciding how he will report back to Tamlin on my outburst. 

Outside, I fill my lungs with the late-September air. The adrenaline crash has me leaning against the wall and to my irritation I feel a prickle of tears in my eyes. _Good one Feyre, fastest job you’ve ever lost._

When I mentally replay the end of the conversation, I realise that Lucien had softened his tone, albeit only slightly. I wonder if that last comment was actually his way of apologising.... I tip my head back, knocking it repeatedly against the bricks, but the sense I am seeking refuses to be knocked in.

The door to the courtyard swings open and I realise there is only one person in this building who I’d want to see right now - and there she is.

Alis holds up two canteen sandwiches and asks, “Have you eaten? Want to keep me company on my lunch break?”

She give me a way in and a way out, all at once. I could hug her – if that wasn’t totally unprofessional and I was actually the sort of person who would hug a near stranger.

We moved together over to the picnic benches and I mostly pull my sandwich apart while she eats and talks. “I love days like these. I find I can’t stay inside when September throws us a last taste of summer, just when we’ve called it over. Summer is my favourite time of year.”

“Why don’t you move somewhere warmer? You could have summer practically all year round.”

“I used to live somewhere like that.”

“So why move?”

“Family. My nephews live with me now and their lives are here.” The obvious question must be written across my face. “Their parents died. I couldn’t leave them thinking no one cared for them. So I moved here and it was the best decision I’ve ever made.”

I nod, reduced to non-verbal communication while I process the mix of emotions I’m feeling. There is greater respect for her from knowing her better, sympathy for the sacrifices she must have made, but also jealousy.

Jealousy of Alis’ nephews, who weren’t left without a mother.

Like I was.

.o0O0o.

Lucien must have decided not to report back as I don’t hear from either him or Tamlin during the remainder of the week.

My heart sinks as I enter Bryaxis on Friday, knowing that when I go home this evening it will be for the last time. And I am still yet to tell my family, like a coward I am leaving it until the morning.

I limit my contact with customers and even Bill has a hard time getting anything out of me this evening. In fact the only person who I don’t avoid on sight catches me as I complete a sweep of the room, looking for empty glasses.

He is leaning against the wall as I return to the bar, hands in pockets. I didn't see him come in. I tell myself that I wasn't looking out for him – it’s a lie.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

Always a game.

“Who says I want to know _your_ name?” I throw back, rolling my eyes.

It is the lazy smile that draws me in. “It must make it difficult to think about me, when I’m not here.”

I pretend to consider this and then shake my head, “No, I’m managing just fine with _prick_.”

“So you _do_ think about me then?” He grins and his eyes seem to spark with laughter.

I scowl, eyes narrowing. “Only in the context of how much easier my life is when you’re not here.”

“Wounded,” he says, though by his expression I can tell that he is anything but. “When do you finish work at the superstore tonight?”

“Seriously? You think I’m going to agree to go anywhere with you in the early hours of the morning?”

“I was going to offer to walk you home.”

“So you can find out where I live?” _For one more night at least_, I add silently.

“To make sure you arrive safely.”

“I know the way, I’m fine.” I turn away from him, to put down the glasses that I am still carrying. When I turn back he is right beside me, though I never heard him move, as silent as the shadows he seems to appear from.

“I won’t give up, you know,” his voice is soft, “You intrigue me. I want to know you better.”

“You’ll be disappointed, there isn’t much to know.”

His fingers reach up level with my eyes, tucking a section of hair back behind my ear. The hair must have come loose from my bun as I worked but his action feels somehow intimate. My cheeks flush.

Then, to my horror, he slowly leans in towards the ear he has just caressed. “I _will_ know your name,” I feel the rush of warm air as he whispers the promise directly into my ear.

Suppressing a shudder, I watch him pull away, giving me a knowing smile, and then leave the bar. I wait for the door to close after him before allowing myself to take another breath.


	5. Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre needs a friend.

**Chapter 5**

_Just before my mother died, she called me into her room to see her. I was eight. _

_I remember the rash that crept out from beneath her top, spreading across her skin the way that water spreads through sand. She was always uncomfortable and I was often called for to readjust this pillow or that blanket. Her dry cough and continuous hacking was enough to keep Nesta and Elain away. My father stayed away too, I realised later that he had begun to grieve before she was even gone. _

_So I wasn’t surprised to hear her call, even at that late hour. I _was_ surprised when she gripped my hand, too hard to be comforting, and told me that it would soon be time for me to take care of my sisters and father. _

_My mother’s words did what her extreme fever had not – they told me that she would soon be dead. _

_ I didn’t cry._

_I don’t know if she would be pleased with my efforts since, though I have tried to keep my promise. As a child I never questioned that my role in life was to protect my family. Some days I was angry with the road life has put me on but never with the role I’ve had played._

_I’ve done somethings I regret, put myself in situations I wish I hadn’t been in, but my motives have always been sound. If there had been another way, I’d have taken it. There just wasn’t. _

_Often, though, I’ve wondered why she chose me, not just the youngest of her children but also the least like herself, to lay that burden on. Surely Nesta, as the eldest, was the obvious choice. _

_Maybe she thought that I was the one who most needed to hear it; that I was the one most likely to leave the family unit. And she was right - I was the one who left._

_And honestly, that was when the problems really started; for my family and for me._

***

“You’re telling us this now!?”

I never expected Nesta to be pleased for me but her anger is unexpected – at least, to this degree. My father has said nothing since I dropped the bomb on them this morning, pale-faced Elain has spoken only in whispers to Nesta, trying to calm her down.

All last night I’d been coming up with a mental list of positives, to help put a good spin on this – I’d have been better off spending the night catching up on lost sleep since all my arguments vanish when I see my family together around the table. A unit. We may not always get on but this group of people are the only family I have.

In hindsight, dragging a large bag containing all my possessions out into the hallway hadn’t been the best way to start. And maybe I should have found a way to record that list of positives, because once Nesta starts to yell I flounder, forgetting everything.

The _discussion_, for want of a better word, starts badly. Then gets worse.

“My room will be free now; you’ve always said how you need more space. This is going to be a good thing, Nesta.”

_Really Feyre? That’s the best you can come up with?_ Even my internal voice is on Nesta’s side.

“Does this family mean nothing to you?”

My jaw falls open. “How can you say that?”

“First chance you get, you’re off! After everything, you’re ready to leave us with no warning.”

My temper spikes. I can’t help but defend myself. “What do you mean ‘after everything’? I do everything for this family! I’m the only one here who works, if you hadn’t noticed-”

“So that’s what this is really about? You want Elain and I to quit school just when we’re about to graduate?”

“No but-”

“You want us to be pleased about an extra cupboard for storage when we’re about to be made homeless?”

“You’re not going to be homeless, I’ll still be-”

“I don’t have to listen to this shit.”

“Nesta!”

“I’m going out.” I try to follow but she makes sure to slam the front door in my face. Elain is crying and dad has his ‘I need a drink’ look. Which is when my mum’s words echo in my head like church bells on a Sunday, perfect timing.

_Take care of them._

Tears fill my eyes and to prevent them from falling I stop myself blinking. “I’ll be going then,” I say to no one in particular.

And no one stops me.

.o0O0o.

Needing to keep something normal in my life, I do another extra shift at Bryaxis. This time there is a function going on in the rooms upstairs and Bill is too busy to see the redness around my eyes or the way my mouth is drawn permanently down. He hurries off, giving me the chance to stuff my bag into a cupboard unseen.

I stay at the bar right through to the evening, avoiding my new apartment. Empty – that’s how it is, how it will make me feel.

When my break comes I need air, the crowd inside has been doing my head in (they are mostly part of a wedding group and they’re all far too happy), so I slip out via the alleyway. Standing in the crisp October air, I lean back and look up at the stars, a habit of mine. A slice of night sky is visible between the bar and the next building along.

I should have looked about me first.

"A star gazer." I whip my head round at the sound of a voice, _his_ voice. "I should have known," he says more quietly.

"I'm on my break," I say, aiming for irritated and falling short.

“And in a wonderful mood tonight, I see.”

“Prick.” Even the insult lacks bite.

He steps closer and I see concern shift his features away from playfulness into something closer to kindness. “I’ve heard a problem shared has half the sting.”

I sigh, I have no reason to trust him but for some reason I know I’m going to anyway. “My family hate me.” I say it in rush, before I change my mind.

“I’m sorry.” He says it like he means it. “It is hard to feel cut off from family, whatever the cause.”

“Why can’t they see that everything I do is for them?” I’m not really asking him, it’s not like I expect him to have an answer when he doesn’t even know me.

“Is there anything I can do?”

I shake my head, rubbing a hand down my face, over my eyes. When I look back at him it is as though the arrogant arsehole persona he usually plays at being has completely gone. There is pain in his eyes now too – his own or for me?

“Why are you here?”

"Well, as it happens, I also enjoy viewing the stars.” A softer version of his cocky smile returns, it doesn’t completely erase the pain but it makes him look younger. “We could admire them together? Or, if you’d prefer, feel free to admire me instead."

"Prick," I say again but my face twitches into almost smile. He chuckles and confirms my diagnosis by taking my hand and pulling me out of the alleyway. From the middle of the street, the sky opens up around us. _Truly magnificent_.

So much so that I forget to be angry with him as I stare at the stars. 

"There, look." He positions himself behind me and points over my shoulder, up at the sky. "A shooting star." The hand that isn't pointing he rests lightly at my hip.

My heart stutters. Even Tamlin wouldn't stand so far into my personal space. I feel warm everywhere and only when my body has run out of oxygen do I start breathing again, beginning with a gasp that I pray he doesn't hear.

I step forward and turn, hoping my face doesn't look flushed. Or that the lack of light hides me from him. "What are you - an astronomer or astrologer?"

His face looks serious but his lips tip upwards in a smile, "I can't claim to be either." He looks up at the sky again, thinking. "When I look at the stars, they remind me who and what _really_ matters in this life… But I've never believed the position of this or that planet means it's a good time to buy new shoes. Or make a new friend." He looks meaningfully back at me as he says ‘friend’. "Which are you - astronomer or astrologer?"

The smirk tells me that he is expecting a cutting remark along the lines of _I'm not your friend_, like he’s daring me to spar with him.

But the first part of his answer is still resonating within me and I think I surprised both of us when I reply, "I like that they're so constant. I know their positions change but there are always stars up there. It helps to know that tomorrow night they'll still be there... By then I might have lost everything but I'll still have the stars."

I'd given him my truth, in return for his, but I'd been looking at the stars above Velaris the whole time. Now I looked back at him and the intensity of his gaze holds me, makes me want to move closer.

I feel that pull between us again, from him to me. So strong it borders on physical.

I'm not sure who would have spoken first if the bar door hadn't opened and the sounds from within hadn't called me back to my job.

He understood the look on my face and nodded his goodnight but I feel him watching my retreating back right up until the door swings shut.

I’m surprised to find that our conversation has actually helped. When I reach my soulless new apartment and look out at a stunning view of Velaris, I realise that if I did lose everything, it’s unlikely that Tamlin would stand by me. Maybe not even my family would, given what happened this morning.

But the dark haired stranger, less a stranger every time we talk, with those deep blue eyes that seemed to see beyond my physical self, I think _he_ would.

.o0O0o.

Sunday morning, feeling braver, I go back to my family home. Though I time my visit for when I know Nesta should be out. As I hoped, my father and Elain are eating a late breakfast. Although they are surprised to see me, Elain lets me in and my father clears a space at the table for me to join them.

We sit in awkward silence until my father says, “You’ll be coming back to visit then?”

“Every chance I get. I need to live closer to work but it’s just a job. I wouldn’t be leaving unless I had to.”

Elain nods, “And the place you’re living is ok?”

I fight to keep my face free of embarrassment, “It’s fine. I’m in the same block as my boss, so I can work late if he needs me to.”

“_He_?” My dad asks, “You’re not…?” He can’t finish the question, I’m glad he doesn’t.

“He’s just my boss. His name is Tamlin Spring, the CEO of Spring Publishing.” I shift the focus of the conversation, “The pay is excellent. And I’m not paying rent so I can send most of it back to you.”

Elain is nodding again. “That’s good.” She offers me a small smile. “Nesta will come around.”

I laugh, “Maybe. But I’m not letting her scare me away. This is still my _home_.” That said, I don’t want to risk another row with Nesta, so I leave before lunch. Checking a few of my dad’s preferred hiding places for alcohol before I leave.

I promise to be back for the weekend and Elain promises to talk to Nesta on my behalf.

Returning to my new flat, I allow myself to think about this new job and I wonder how much of a lie I told when I described Tamlin as ‘just my boss’. True for now but for how much longer?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I enjoyed writing this one.


	6. Suriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre starts work as Tamlin's secretary and is sent off to find the Suriel by Lucien

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the people who have left comments and kudos, they mean so much - this one is for you :)
> 
> Also, warning for self-harm reference at the start.

**Chapter 6**

_As I run my hand down my arm, the regular rise and fall of my fingertips helps me to focus my breathing. I feel calm. I trace a pathway across the network of overlapping scabs, at differing stages of healing. Eyes closed. I explore the surface of my skin as if it were the terrain of a faraway planet. I am content. _

_Contained. _

_I know he sees these most recent flaws marking my skin when we eat together, in silence, each evening. He says nothing with his lips but I read the disapproval directly in his eyes. _

_I don't remember when the scratching started. Even if I try, my memory of the last few hours, days, weeks seems incomplete, while my memories of _other_ times come back to me in vivid detail, refusing to be forgotten..._

_Some prompts are predictable: the smell of car fumes when the traffic below is especially heavy; the sound of my name spoken in anger; loud noises or the confusion of many sounds at once; and one hundred other unpredictable triggers. _

_It doesn’t take much to send me back. Then I feel my whole body folding into myself. Before I’ve even processed the trigger, my hands could be forming fists or gripping my arms hard enough to leave a mark. It’s really not much of a jump from there to leaving marks with my nails._

_I didn’t understand to begin with but I understand now. I seek comfort through distraction, and my distraction of choice is pain. _

_When I began to break the skin, I took precautions; trying to keep my nails short. At night my nails raked my legs as I tried to sleep, curled up tight as a ball, so I wore leggings and long socks to bed. There was no one to notice; he never comes to my bed these days anyway._

_I am trying to keep myself safe. _ _But self-harm escalates._

*** 

My first two weeks in the new job, my _dream_ job, have been better than I could ever have expected. And it is all thanks to Alis.

She spoke to Tamlin about how useful my knowledge of her department would be and convinced him that I needed to have some experience of _every_ department. He didn’t like it but I was keen and even Lucien was in agreement, so eventually Tamlin decided that I would join his morning briefings with Lucien but spend the rest of my time meeting the key people in each department and finding out about their role in the company as a whole.

Depending on the size of the department, I have spent between a morning and a couple of days with each. This intense induction period has kept me mentally and physically active, so much so that I have to keep reminding myself that I have _fewer_ jobs now than before!

I don’t miss the shelf stacking one bit, in fact I haven’t even stepped into a food store since I became Tamlin’s secretary.

Tamlin made sure that my kitchen was very well stocked when I moved in, three floors below him. Not the empty shell I had thought it would be, my flat is fully furnished if a little hotel-like. I’m not complaining! I’ll take upmarket hotel over a barely furnished box room any day. And when I have time, I will make the flat feel more like me.

I’m still at Bryaxis for the evening shift but I feel myself pulling away as my final day creeps closer. I have never been good at goodbyes, I don’t stay in touch. Even Bill, who has been as close to a friend as I’ve ever had, will be little more than a stranger on the street soon enough. This is a character flaw, I admit, and I know I use it as justification for not making friends in the first place.

There is another besides Bill who I will miss, in my own way, when I no longer work behind the bar. Though I will never admit to actively looking out for him, I am pleased to see him only a few days before my final shift.

This time he does not manage to arrive unobserved. Between a steady stream of students queuing for more alcohol, I see the bar doors open and a flurry of people move in and out of the building. One coming in has distinctively thick dark hair.

Through the crowd, I note the way his eyes flick immediately to the bar and the way the corners of his mouth tip upwards when he spots me amongst the staff.

"We meet again,” I said dryly when he reaches my end of the bar a few minutes later. 

“Indeed. But don’t worry darling, I have my cousin with me tonight and she will keep me out of your hair.”

Said cousin arrives at his shoulder as he speaks and I struggle to see the similarities. Where he looks as if all the shadows in the room begin and end with him, she is sunlight personified with bright eyes and long golden hair. She radiates happiness and I like her immediately.

“You’re cousins?” I asked and the disbelief in my face has them both laughing. I laugh with them. 

“Believe it or not, yes, this is my cousin Morrigan. But apologies Mor, I cannot introduce you to the lovely lady behind the bar, for she has not yet told me her name.”

“Nor will I,” I retort, enjoying the game, “but I can get you both a drink.”

Mor’s eyes gleam. “A woman who resists your constant flirting! Yes I will certainly drink to that.”

As they head off towards a table in the corner, I hear Mor say to her cousin, “I like her, she’s a keeper.” Which leaves me slightly bemused but also undeniably happy. They are both people I could see myself calling friends. They have the sort of family I’ve always longed for.

My grey-blue eyes meet his dark-blue eyes across the room a number of times during the evening but we don’t talk again. Only when I leave and have walked a good distance away do I fully realise that, with so few shifts to go, I am unlikely to see my mystery stranger again.

A part of me wishes we’d had more time, or that I’d admitted to him that I will soon be leaving, so that we could have said goodbye at least. Maybe I should have told him my name. 

Maybe I should have asked him for his. 

.o0O0o.

Today is my final day these short, internal secondments. I'm with Production all day and I think it is my favourite department besides Art. 

A man named Bron leads the team and he immediately sets me at ease. I like the practical nature of the work, turning everyone else's planning and designing into a physical product – a brand new book. 

I am lucky enough to see the first proof copy of a book whose artwork Alis had been putting the finishing touches to on my first day at Spring. To see her work come alive helps me to see what Spring Publishing is all about. We are not a collection of independent departments, working away on our separate projects. Every department is interconnected; every decision has a knock-on effect. Communication is the key for the finished book to _work_ in every sense.

I head back up, in the executive elevator, full of the anticipation. I want to make every book a success right from selection and the editing, to artwork and materials, ending with production and marketing. I want to prove to Tamlin that he hadn’t made a mistake and to my family that I am succeeding in my own right.

I want people to know who I am. I’m done being invisible.

.o0O0o.

Another month passes and my enthusiasm only grows. Tamlin has made me feel very welcome in the office, taking time to check on me regularly and organising training in all aspects of the job now that I understand the company. The only person not making me feel welcome is Lucien. I scowl even thinking of him. I've done nothing to deserve to be written off so quickly. In fact, I am proving myself over and over again. 

Today is a normal day in terms of workload and it isn't until lunchtime that I notice that Tamlin has not arrived. I check his calendar (all clear) and then walk down to Lucien's office. 

"Knock knock," I call from the open doorway. He scowls at me - at least the feeling is mutual. "I've not seen Tamlin around today, anything I should know about?" 

"Nothing _you_ should know about, no." 

I sigh and even though he has not invited me in, I enter. "Look Lucien, we're on the same side here, I want to help but if you hold things back from me then I don't know _how_ to help." 

He tips his head to the side to consider me, his long red hair catches the light as he moves. "You want to help?" 

The smirk on his face has my guard up but I still nod, "yes, I do." 

"Tamlin needs advice, the sort he can't get here. But if you track down the Suriel you might be able to help." 

"Who is the Suriel?" 

Lucien just smiles. Frustration kindles the first flames of anger inside me. This is a test, just some stupid test…

And yet, when he doesn't see me watching him, Tamlin _has_ seemed worried this last week. There is a nugget of truth behind this bullshit game of Lucien’s, so maybe this Suriel can help. 

"Fine," I say turning to leave. 

"Careful Feyre, don't get into any trouble." I glanced back and see doubt in his eyes. Is he second-guessing his decision to tell me?

Whatever. "I can take care of myself,” I tell him.

.o0O0o.

It takes me two hours to find a viable lead. 

I start with the only clue he's given me: a name. Or at least I am assuming it is a name - a surname. I go through the local phone listings and draw a blank. I try any possible spelling I can think of, still nothing. 

Then I move on to businesses and here I get lucky, an historical online newspaper record mentions the closing down of a Suriel Bookstore, in the Old Town area of Velaris by the river. A bookstore! This has got to be it.

However, that's where my luck ends, no mention of a new address anywhere - but it’s a start at least. So after tying up all loose ends for the day, I set out to find this old address and ask around.

The Old Town of Velaris is not somewhere I've had reason to come before. The businesses that operate here are mostly on recommendation only, and my family is not the sort to receive a recommendation. 

The roads narrow until they allow pedestrians only and some are so tight that two people could barely walk side-by-side. It is a maze with alleyways and arches on either side. The shop signs are mostly old but their colours are still rich and varied. Even hidden under years of dust, they had a grandeur that made me want to duck my head in respect. 

Shop windows show little care or attention; reputation is enough down here. But what they lack is made up for by the intricate brickwork and varying architecture, which steals my breath at every corner. 

_I want to paint it all._

It has been years since I've held a paintbrush. Not since I dropped art class to pick up two after school jobs. But this street brings it all back. I am planning out my imaginary canvas and almost miss the address that I've been looking for. The number 58 is twisted in iron. No sign hangs beside the door and the window is papered over. But through the paper a faint glow catches my eye, I wonder...

I knock. 

And then I wait. 

Eventually the door is opened by an impossibly old man. He squints at me and then beams with a mouth containing very few teeth. 

"Miss Archeron. You'd better come in." 


	7. Self-defense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre gets some advice.

**Chapter 7**

_When I was very young, and my father still worked and my sisters hadn't learnt to hate me, we all lived in a house with so many rooms and a beautiful garden. It wasn't all the space that made me happy. We were a family then. We looked after each other, well, maybe Nesta didn't. But we were more of a unit. _

_I wonder if any of them will come to my wedding. It’s only a month away now and through I know a Tamlin sent them all an invitation, none of them has replied. _

_My father hasn't voluntarily left home for nearly half my lifetime. I was foolish to think a wedding would be enough to get him out. _

_Nesta hates that I have found some security and has always been a snob - to her Tamlin is 'new money'. Ridiculous! To have no money at all and yet dislike someone for finding a way to help themselves. _

_Elain though… I really thought that Elain would come. She would love all the flower arrangements and fine dresses._

_And who else was there? I have no friends to invite, only Tamlin's friends. We agreed early on that we wouldn’t hold with the tradition of reserving one side of the church for me. It would only end up being empty and as Ianthe said: What a waste of half the venue. _

Is there no one else who matters to you?_ A sly voice in my head asks. _

_I won't think about him, I won't. My chest tightens painfully. It's not like Tamlin would agree to invite him even if I did want him to come. Plus he's so fickle, he'd probably just say no anyway. _

He'd come_, that same internal voice says, sadly this time._

***

The words of the Suriel ring in my head: _Miss Archeron. You'd better come in._

Stunned, I do as he suggests and enter the dark space behind him. The candle lit room is as empty as his mouth; a small round table and a chair are the only occupants besides us. 

I study him as he looks intently back at me; I am nervous but not afraid. "You're the Suriel." 

"Just Suriel will do, but that is my name, yes." 

"And you know who I am?" 

"And I know where you're from." He gives me his toothless grin again, seeming to be enjoying this. "Ask your question." 

I’m momentarily struck dumb, in all my confusion I have forgotten why I am here… and then it comes back to me. "Tamlin Spring needs some advice…" not a question at all, _damn it Lucien_, I don’t even know what to ask. 

Suriel chuckles, "Tamlin needs more than advice. But I have just one rule and I stick to it: I only ever give out advice relevant for the person who asks. Mr Spring knows that and he knows where to find me."

My heart sinks as my anger grows. Lucien would have known that I couldn't get the answers we needed. Why even send me? _Bastard_. 

"Is there nothing you wish to know for yourself?" 

He is watching me closely. I smile and shake my head, "I only came to help a friend, I'm sorry to have wasted your time." Time to go.

His voice stops me as I arrive at the front door. "You should head down towards the river, you’ll like it there; we call it the Rainbow. Turn left and three doors down there is an excellent artist supply shop." 

Every muscle freezes in place; I can neither walk away nor turn back to Suriel, though I can feel his smile without needing to look.

How much does he know about me? Had he known that my desire to paint had returned as recently as this afternoon? Or was it just a lucky guess? None of these questions seem to matter as I consider the information he has given me.

"I want to paint your street," my voice is barely more than a whisper. 

He replies in a voice equally quiet, "I'd like to see that painting." 

.o0O0o.

I spent almost an hour and a not insignificant amount of money in that shop. I could have spent longer and much _much_ more money. Guilt stops me on both counts. 

My family needs this money, it will keep a roof over their heads, keep my sisters at school. And my time would be better spent at work, especially given that I have failed to learn anything from Suriel that will help me to help Tamlin. 

I start weaving a route back to Spring HQ, not knowing exactly which roads or alleys to choose, when I find my way blocked by a gang.

Even though the youngest is easily 20 years older than I am, they are definitely a gang. With their coordinated clothing, long back hair and dark eye makeup, regardless of gender, they make me feel small and weak.

And very alone. 

"Where did _that_ come from?" One of the gang shrieks, pointing a finger at me. 

"I need to get through,” I say, keeping my voice expressionless but firm.

"So rude!" 

"We choose who goes this way-" 

"-and we _don't_ choose you." 

I can barely follow who is speaking, the words bouncing off me from either side; I choose the closest individual and focus on them. I will not be made to look stupid, like I’m a spectator at a verbal tennis match.

They all step closer, forcing me to back into the wall, cutting off my way back down the street. The person who had pointed at me before, a stick-thin woman, grips my face, turning it from side to side. I try to stay calm, mentally running through my options, but I am rapidly reaching boiling point.

I’m saved from any outburst I might have made when a man's hand roughly pulls those clawing fingers off my face. "Feyre!" _Tamlin. _

The group immediately begin to disperse, sending dirty looks at Tamlin who stands taller than all of them, baring his teeth in a snarl as they retreat. 

I slump against the wall and take a few deep breaths. I remember the way the men behind Bryaxis had pulled me towards the shadows, how they had gripped me too hard and touched me against my consent... Something about me must scream ‘victim’ as this sort of shit just keeps happening.

I need to be better prepared; I’m fed up of being rescued.

"Feyre," he said again, more gently, "Are you hurt?" I shake my head. "What are you doing down here?" 

I quickly debate telling him that Lucien had sent me but decide the possibility of any future alliance would be lost if I did. Instead I give a half truth, "I heard someone down here could give advice, I wanted to know how to help Spring Publishing, and you - to thank you for giving me this job." 

"You tried to find the Suriel?" 

I nod, "I did find him." 

"And he spoke to _you_?" I didn't like the way he said 'you', it was too similar to the way the dark haired woman had said 'that' as she pointed at me. 

"And why shouldn't he speak to me?" I push away from the wall and Tamlin steps back, away from me and my obviously hostile tone.

"I'm sorry Feyre, he just hasn't spoken to anyone in years. I am surprised, that's all."

"He didn't tell me anything," I say, thinking of the collection of paints and pair of small canvases now tucked into my bag. Another half-truth.

"Well that makes sense." Tamlin puts an arm around my shoulder and steers me up the street, "Let's get you home." Night is falling fast so I allow him to help me into the town car and make polite conversation on the journey home while my mind dwells on the way Tamlin and everyone else in my life underestimates me.

Except maybe the Suriel. 

.o0O0o.

Lucien's face was a picture when Tamlin told him about finding me in the Old Town when we have our Monday morning briefing. I see both fear (that I had told on him) and surprise (that I'd made it that far) in his eyes.

I catch him later to put his mind at rest, I would not be telling Tamlin, but we agree on no more wild goose chases. And from then on everything improves.

I work on my painting every evening after coming home. I mix up so many shades that the dining table became my laboratory - I need the perfect shade of brown for the neglected window frames, the dusty blue of a once-proud-now-aged shop sign, and pale yellow of sunlight on cobbled stones.

It all exists in my head as though I am still standing in the street itself.

When it is complete I sit down to consider what I've made. It doesn’t show the street as anything but what it is, a little run down in places, not exactly friendly - though it had certainly called to me. I haven’t made excuses to gloss over the decay.

I think he would approve so I carefully pack it and address the parcel. For the name, I simply write Suriel, not knowing what else to call him. I haven't put in a letter or note to explain; I’ve decided my initials on the canvas are enough.

.o0O0o.

The only change over the next month, beside my painting and the new found peace between Lucien and I, is a growing determination to learn how to defend myself.

I’m not new to the idea of protecting others but against brute strength I have been found lacking not once now but twice. I will not allow it to happen again.

I finally look up gyms from my phone one Sunday while at my family’s home. I scroll down the list, discounting any that are too close to work, too close to my family, too flashy looking, … My reasons for rejection are many and various, maybe to hide my uncertainty – is this really a good idea? Avoid fighting by learning to fight? It seems counter intuitive.

Elain tries to get Nesta and I to talk, ever the mediator, but neither of us are in the mood today. That we are in the same room is progress enough for now.

I go back to making a short list of possibly gyms and over the next week I check them out, one-by-one, whenever I have the time. Mostly this involves walking past and glancing in, acting casual, curious maybe. Sometimes I hover in the doorway…

I never go in.

But then I find the place. Elain would cross the road to avoid it. Nesta would cry with laughter at just the idea of me in that place. But some instinct is telling me that this is it. Gut feeling or no, it still takes me three attempts to do more than walk by.

It is the rain that drives me inside. Standing in the doorway, I let my eyes adjust to the change in lighting, then I take another step in. My first thought is: I am not the only female in the room! Admittedly there are not many women here but some of the gyms I’ve looked at may as well have had ‘men only’ signs on the door.

I cast my eyes over the punch bags and other training equipment, the empty sparring area, and feel my courage slip. _I am so far out of my depth._ I am backing up to leave when a man approaches.

“Need any help?”

_Come on Feyre, this is it. Say something!_ “You work here?”

He grins, “No, but you caught my eye.” My shoulders tighten in anger, just another asshole thinking he can take advantage. He sees my face. “No, no, that came out wrong.” I am already turning to go but he catches me gently by the arm. “Look, let me start over. No, this isn’t my job exactly but I work in security so I’m here most days training. It’s a hobby I guess. And sometimes I train other people.”

His face is full of anxiety, desperate to be liked, a puppy who knows he’s done wrong. I sigh, hating the part of myself that has already decided to like him. He gives me a lopsided smile and offers his hand.

“My name’s Cassian.”

“Feyre,” I say grudgingly.

“So Feyre, tell me what brought you here.”

And I do, an abridged version at least, telling him about the men outside the bar and the gang down by the river. How helpless and weak it made me feel. He nods but not in a condescending way and then he puts me to work, pushing my mind just as hard as my muscles.

.o0O0o.

I train with Cassian several times a week from them on. With the exception of one particularly impressive bruise on my elbow, I keep this new hobby hidden from view – especially from my family.

The one time I did mention it at work, I was met by raised eyebrows and confused smiles. Tamlin compromised by saying nothing. From Lucien, however, I got a nod of approval and my first genuine smile.

I don’t spend too long worrying over what other people think. What really matters is how much better life feels now, at least partially because Cassian is fast becoming a friend.

When we finish sparring this evening, sat on a bench at the side of the gym catching our breath, he says out of the blue, “Did I ever tell you about my cousin?”

I shake my head and he sighs deeply, looking so sad that, even though he brought it up, I feel the need to say, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, I do want to, it’s just hard thinking about it. She was younger than you are now. Her boyfriend rejected her. He could have just dumped her and let her go but instead he passed her on to his shithead brothers who laid into her. When they were done, they left her in the street. She needed medical attention, could have died, and they just _left her there_.”

He stops. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“My brother found her, went with her in the ambulance. And, well anyway, when she got out she wanted to be strong enough to defend herself. So I trained with her every day. She was the first but not the last.”

“You don’t train together anymore?”

He laughs, “No, she’s here at stupid o’clock in the morning and I am _not_ what you would call a morning person.”

We laugh together, sipping from our water bottles.

“You remind me of her.” I blush but oddly it does feel good, being compared to this person I don’t know, to someone who matters to Cassian.

“What’s with the compliment? Am I about to find out that this is how you pick up women?”

“Why? You interested?” He grins across at me but I can see he’s teasing.

“Don’t take this the wrong way Cassian, you’re very good looking and all, but you’re not my type.”

He huffs in mock disappointment, “Shame. We could have been great together, Feyre. If you ever change your mind, you know where I am.”

I get up to go, “In your dreams, Cass.”

“Oh every night, every night!”

I give him the finger over my shoulder as I leave, hiding the smile on my face. I feel good, like a part of my life that I hadn’t even known was empty is finally starting to fill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bringing in Cassian a little early, hope you don't mind :)


	8. Calenmai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calenmai leads to a change in Feyre's relationship with Tamlin.

**Chapter 8**

_Time slips past in irregular jumps. _

_When my life had purpose and my days were busy, I felt time passing like a light wind in my hair, with carefree awareness._

_Now time is my gaoler, it tortures me with the weapons of confusion and frustration. When I wish it to pass quickly, it goes slow. When I try to catch each instant in my hands, several rush past me. _

_Meals with Tamlin are times of the former kind, where moments seem to stretch like warm plastic. I watch as our relationship repeatedly deforms and re-sets - the same and yet completely different. Each day more changes accumulate. _

_He says the changes are my fault. _

****

The rising sun wakes me gently. I like it that way, leaving the blinds open so as to welcome the light and faint warmth onto my skin each day. 

Every morning the confusion over where I am is less. And yet, in an unsettling way, this place feels as much like home as it does a luxury hotel. I try not to compare my surroundings with my family's home; any comparison leaves me feeling guilty and slightly ill. 

I wash, dress and leave in the efficient way I perfected when times were hard. I like to leave long before Tamlin, mainly to avoid the offer to share a lift in his town car - I know how gossip will grow if I’m seen arriving or leaving with him too often. Especially given how he now acts around me at work.

The upside is that I can take my time and walk to work, along the Sidra, enjoying the sound of the water rushing past. 

We fall into a comfortable rhythm, Tamlin, Lucien and I. Our morning meeting helps to set daily priorities, Lucien handles everything to do with external bodies while I co-ordinate with our heads of departments – setting up meetings when necessary and keeping up with any admin tasks Tamlin needs doing.

There are days when Tamlin has back-to-back meetings and we barely speak. Mostly, however, we talk often and frequently take lunch together. I had thought that he was making a point to check in regularly, because I was new to the post, but if anything, his visits to my desk are now longer and more frequent than before. 

At the end of most weeks, the three of us meet to review and wind down together. If this doesn’t happen I head to the gym and wind down with Cassian.

And then the following Monday we repeat. Like clockwork. Until I find it hard to tell one week from another.

Until Calenmai.

It starts with Tamlin giving Lucien hell over nothing. "Get out!" he roars, rattling the glass in his office door. I glance from Lucien, to Tamlin's office door and back again, with the question clear in my eyes.

"It's nothing.” Lucien says, “Just… stay out of his way today. And tonight. When you get in this evening, make sure you stay there."

"I don't understand."

"It's Calenmai tonight."

"I _still_ don't understand," I say, beginning to get irritated.

Lucien puts his hands up in surrender and slumps into the chair beside my desk. "It's an awards evening. Spring used to reliably pick up multiple awards each time but not in recent years. He wants the success his father had, it makes him short tempered."

"And this year? Will we win any awards?"

Lucien shrugs, "One, maybe two. But for Tam it's as much about who else wins. When he gets home he'll probably be in a shitty mood so stay out of his way."

I nod my thanks as Lucien gets up. "Don’t we go with him to Calenmai?"

"I do. _You_ stay out of the way, like I said." I scowl but given Tamlin's current mood at not-quite 10 o'clock in the morning, I think Lucien drew the short straw.

When I pass Lucien again at 6pm I whisper, "Good luck," and stick my tongue out in response to the death glare he sends me.

I decide against an evening trip to the gym, not being sure what time Tamlin will get back. So I paint until almost midnight, working on my latest picture: the mountains beyond Velaris and the night sky above them. That's when I hear the quiet knock.

Thinking it must be Lucien, and keen to hear how the evening went, I open the door without looking through the peep hole. But it isn’t Lucien.

It's Tamlin and he's clearly had more than enough to drink.

"Feyre."

"Hi," I say stupidly, looking at the way he's leaning against my door frame but still swaying slightly on the spot. "How did it go?"

"How did what go?" I am one hundred percent certain that he won't remember any of this tomorrow.

"Calenmai."

He squints at me, bemused. "You knew?"

"Lucien told me earlier," I admit. Leaning back into my flat, I pick up my keys and then pull the door closed. "Can I walk you up?"

He rolls his eyes, "I'm not _that_ drunk, Feyre."

I link my arm with his anyway - after so much time in his company I no longer baulk at physical contact between us. "I didn't say you were drunk, just looking for an excuse to walk you home. And besides, it's not like you live far."

We make it into the elevator by a meandering path, as I struggle to support some of his weight and steer. As we travel up he finally answers my question, "We won two awards but not the one I wanted - _fucking Starfall_."

"What's Starfall?" but when I get back only a long string of curses, I decide to drop the subject. "You gave Lucien hell today, you know that?" Tamlin grunts. "You should make it up to him."

"And what about you? How should I make it up to you?"

"You have nothing to make up for." I pull him out of the lift and towards the lone door on this floor: his door. I’ve never actually been this close to his home before.

"I got you up in the middle of the night. You're walking me home." He is ticking off reasons on his fingers, so he can still count at least.

"I wasn't asleep and I don’t mind walking with you. Anyway, you know I’m always happy to spend time with you."

"I'd like to spend _more_ time with you, Feyre." Tamlin is suddenly looking much more serious and significantly more sober. It leaves me wondering if I miss judged how far gone he was at the start.

_Backtrack_. "I think this is a conversation for another time."

But he's slowly backing me against the wall and his breath is hot on my face. It should make me uncomfortable. It should remind me of the men behind Bryaxis. Or of caring for my dad, on one of the innumerable times I'd come home from work to find him drunk.

But instead it is excitement that makes my heart rate increase and my legs feel weak. No fear. No disgust.

Tamlin rests both hands on my shoulders heavily. When he’s sure I won’t bolt, he runs his hands down to my elbows and back up again, warming and soothing. He is close enough for his hips to nudge against mine as he rests his forehead against my neck.

"I shouldn't have knocked on your door tonight. And you shouldn't have answered."

I can’t say anything with him so close but I gasp when I felt his lips roughly kissing my neck.

"I should stay away from you," he mumbles before kissing me again, trailing a wet path from behind my ear to just above my collarbone. Then he bites down on my neck and I am glad of his arms as they hold me up. He alternates kissing and biting until I know there will be marks in the morning.

Pressing his mouth to my ear, Tamlin whispers, "I won't invite you in tonight, but I want to."

I am ashamed of the quiet noise that escapes me, a sort of whine and moan mixed together. At least it was quiet. Hopefully he won't remember in the morning.

He pulls away and only with the support of the wall do I remain upright.

"Goodnight Feyre."

I manage, "Goodnight Tamlin," before he opens and closes his front door.

I stay leaning limply in his hallway alone for a full minute, before going in search of my own bed.

.o0O0o.

The next morning, a Saturday, I receive a text from Tamlin, much earlier than I would have expected, inviting me to lunch on the rooftop garden. 

Tamlin’s floor is the penthouse and above it is a garden space I know Tamlin uses for entertaining, though I have never been. He gave me a key when I first moved in but to visit without him didn’t seem right. I jump at the chance today, curiosity on multiple counts driving me.

When the elevator opens I am met with a padlocked gate, today it is open, so I return my keys to the small shoulder bag I have with me and look around. Every colour imaginable is here: roses in yellows, pinks, reds and purples hang from bushes on either side of gravel paths, foliage creeps over the borders onto these paths with leaves in every shape and shade of green. 

Elain would love it here.

At the far end of the path I can see a seating area beneath the shade of a pergola that drips with small white flowers. When I arrive Lucien is already there. He chokes on a mouthful of coffee when he sees me, or more specifically, when he sees my neck. 

"Good morning to you too Lucien." Both men are staring at the marks running from my shoulder all the way up to my ear but only one watches me with a predatory gaze. 

"What the hell happened to your neck?" 

"Ask him," I say, gesturing to Tamlin, who grins lazily back at me, "he did it." 

"And what a good job I did too." He takes another sip of coffee, then answers Lucien. "I paid Feyre a call after the ceremony last night, she helped me work through a couple of things." No alcohol induced amnesia then.

Looking at me, Lucien says, "I told you to stay inside last night." I just shrug, happy with my choices. 

Lucien tries several times to engage us in conversation but each attempt fails. I have eyes only for Tamlin. And he has eyes only for me. Lucien excuses himself from the table a short while later and I'm ashamed to say that neither of us turn to watch him go. 

I spend the rest of the day with Tamlin, talking and touching in outwardly casual ways - the light press of hands or brush of knees. Inside I am a mess, burning up with every contact and craving the next as soon as it ends.

It is both the longest time we have spent together and the first time we have met up away from work. When evening falls, earlier now with the recent return of the longer nights, Tamlin stands offering a hand down to me. “Let me walk you home?”

I can’t quite hide my smile. “You don’t need to, it’s not far.”

“Maybe I enjoy your company.”

I take his hand, never having intended to turn down his offer, and we walk back, slowly, to the elevator. His arm wraps around my waist as we wait for the number to tick lower and lower. When the doors finally open he reclaims my hand and leads me to my door.

I look down into my bag, to find my keys. When I look up Tamlin is right there, sharing my air as I exhale. From the look in his eyes, I’d guess he'd like to share more than air.

“Invite me in,” he says.

It’s not a question.


	9. Bad Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre has an eventful weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus update. Thank you for reading this and for your kudos and comments :)
> 
> Mature/explicit content from here

**Chapter 9**

_Sex has never been more than a physical act. I can sleep with someone and feel nothing for them as a person. But it has served different purposes at different times. _ _At sixteen, I used sex as a currency, of sorts, to get what I needed - even if all that I needed was to feel connected to someone. At eighteen, it was simple fun, a form of physical release._

_Looking back, it is hard not to wonder if I felt more connected to Cassian as we sparred than I did to Tamlin. But maybe I am re-writing my past._

_Now I don’t want to be connected. I don’t want fun or physical release. And there is nothing I would trade my body for - there is nothing I want. _ _And I don’t want anyone to have more from me. I have given too much already. _

_***_

I don’t answer Tamlin, at least not verbally. But his hands are on my hips as I open the door. They stay there as we step inside. Then I feel his fingers turning me. His eyes are dark pools of desire. He cups my face and kisses me, no one has ever kissed me like this. Like they need me.

His hands shift, fingers threading through my hair, drawing patterns on my scalp. He parts my lips and as his tongue meets mine a moan passes from my mouth into his. He growls in response. 

Again, his hands are on the move, I can barely keep up as he calmly he slides his fingers down my shirt, opening one button after another. I would love to do the same but my hands, now fisted in his shirt, are shaking far too much for that level of coordination. 

With my shirt now fully parted, I feel first his fingers and then his lips travel over every inch of the newly exposed skin. He does nothing about removing my bra though I arch towards him, frustration building. Tamlin only chuckles. _Bastard_, he knows what he’s doing to me. 

I shrug the shirt off my shoulders and stumble backwards, pulling him towards my bedroom. I sit on the edge of the bed and Tamlin stops one step away, looking down at me.

With his full attention I drag down the zip of my jeans; the sound draws his gaze and he watches as I push my jeans and shoes off with one movement. I am left in only my underwear. Thank goodness I'd chosen a matching set this morning! 

His breathing is growing ragged and the green and gold of his eyes is swallowed by the black of his pupils blown wide. Desire. I can see it in every part of him, including the bulge in his pants. Desire for _me_.

"Feyre." 

My breathing is no more even than his and with each inhale my chest rises towards him. I see Tamlin follow that movement and I give in to my own hunger. Reaching behind me, I flick my bra open and add it to the pile of my clothing on the floor.

His lips part and with one final look into my eyes for permission, he pushes me back onto the bed and takes a nipple in his mouth. 

"Ahh," I hiss with pleasure, holding his head in place. It is almost more attention than I can take, as he scrapes his teeth along the sensitive flesh before kissing and sucking it deep into his mouth. 

When he moves to repeat the treatment on my other breast, I call out his name; I feel his smile against my breast as he slips his fingers beneath the elastic on my one remaining item if clothing. 

I am wet and ready for him. He groans as first one finger and then two slides through that wetness - sliding across my clit and leaving me gasping for air. 

It feels like drowning and I cling to him, my life raft. When his fingers push inside me I slam my head back against the bed and Tamlin moves his kisses back to my jawline. I can feel him watching me as I approach my peak and shatter beneath him. 

I am naked yet he is still fully clothed. That will need to be rectified and quickly. Once I have caught my breath, I pull his tie loose and with trembling fingers began to pick at his buttons. 

Tamlin laughs and takes pity on me, pulling away to undress. Every muscle in his arms and chest could have been sculpted. The skin is smooth and golden. I kneel up when he is down to a plain pair of boxers, reaching for him. He comes to my arms. 

The feeling of skin on skin is incredible but I still want more. I push his boxers over his hips and take his erection in my hand. Lightly I collect the beads of fluid and spread them around the head. It is Tamlin’s turn to hiss through his teeth for a moment and then he pushes me back so I am once more looking up at him. 

Then he pins my arms to my side.

And for a second he is not Tamlin and this is not a bed. I close my eyes and breathe through the memory. Tamlin doesn’t notice this momentary loss of composure and his voice helps to ground me.

"I want you Feyre."

I smile, it is almost not forced. "Then have me." I tell myself that this will free me from the memories I try to keep suppressed; it is the only thing that can.

And so he does have me. First rolling a condom onto himself and then pushing deeper than anyone has been inside me before. I give myself over to sensation and I am one continuous moan of pleasure as he thrusts and thrusts. Until I find my peak for a second time and he joins me. 

.o0O0o.

He doesn’t stay the night.

At some point around 1am, I feel him roll over and gently climb out of bed. I assume he wants to visit the bathroom but instead I hear him quietly dressing. In the dark room I bite my lip, a moment of indecision. If I show that I am awake we will have to talk about him not wanting to stay, if I continue to feign sleep I can delay that conversation.

I opt for delay, needing to process the last twelve hours by myself.

When the front door clicks closed, I am ashamed that a wave of something similar to relief washes over me. Tamlin has changed my life so completely in such a short space of time, and whatever _this_ is between us will change it further. Slow is good.

I fall back to sleep easily enough but wake once more in the night from a nightmare – a familiar one.

In the dream I am lying on a bed, though sometimes I am at the office, at home, at Bryaxis, or even outside on a road. The next part is always the same. I am choking, my airways are blocked but I don’t know what by. I want desperately to claw at my neck or clear the blockage from my mouth, but I can’t move. The chocking seems to go on and one, for a lifetime. Sometimes people are there, watching – my mother, my sisters. Tonight it is Tamlin watching.

But nobody ever helps me.

.o0O0o.

The next morning, once I am showered and dressed, I hear a knock at the door. Confident, loud and I have no doubt that it's Tamlin.

He is also looking refreshed when I invite him in. “How are you this morning, Feyre?” He asks, ignoring the fact that he would know already if he’d stayed.

“I’m good,” I answer honestly, “Better than good.” We exchange smiles and there is a hunger in his, which makes me wonder if we won’t soon be removing clothing again.

“I enjoyed last night,” he closes the distance between us as he speaks, taking my hands.

“Me too-” I start to say, but we are interrupted by another knock at the door. I frown, partly at the interruption but also because I am at a loss as to who could be on the other side of the door.

I am not expecting it to be Elain. I am not expecting her face to be the colour of fresh canvas.

However, by the time she manages to speak, I am expecting to hear bad news about my father. I am silently grateful for Tamlin’s steadying grip at my elbow as we listen.

.o0O0o.

The rest of Sunday is a living hell, made better and worse by Tamlin insisting on accompanying me. Elain explained that dad had been out the night before then came home drunk and with a head injury.

It’s odd; I can count the number of times dad has been out in the last decade on my fingers. Usually it is an anniversary that drives him out in search of stronger alcohol. Ordinarily he has a neighbour call by and ‘forget’ some bottles while ‘accidentally’ taking some money – a system I have tried to stop but when I was working all the hours of the day it was hard to catch every bottle.

Last night, Nesta had shouted at him and Elain had put him to bed. During the night he had been sick and come morning he wouldn’t wake.

News of the vomiting makes my heart stutter, coming too soon after my dream. I had always put dad to bed on his side, just in case. To keep his airways clear, to keep him alive. _Did Elain know to do that?_

Elain told us that Nesta had gone to the hospital with dad and she had come to find me. Tamlin takes us both to the hospital in his town car, asking the driver to wait.

We are there for hours.

Though dad had briefly regained consciousness before we arrived, it isn’t until early evening that he is well enough to carry a conversation. Even then, he seems confused and can’t focus on us as we talk.

He has concussion from whatever happened to his head – he doesn’t remember. And alcohol poisoning. And had early signs of hypothermia when he'd arrived.

The hypothermia was easily treated and the concussion will probably be fine in a few days. The doctor is very stern with my dad about the alcohol though and tells us that he needs rehab, ideally a six week stay.

We leave dad to rest and all four of us return to my family’s home. I am too emotionally drained to feel any embarrassment at Tamlin being there.

As we sit at the dining table, my fingers are clasped together tight enough to turn my knuckles white. I feel Tamlin enclose my hands with his, his warmth seeping into my skin. I can’t smile so I aim for a neutral expression as I look at him.

When he offers me a distraction, I take it gratefully.

“Where is your room?”

I lead Tamlin to the doorway of what _had_ been my room. The small amount of floor space and the surface of the bed are now covered in boxes of clothes from Nesta or Elain. Both are making use of this new storage space, as I'd known they would.

I'm fine with this; I felt no great attachment to the room anyway. But Tamlin's face is clouded with rage.

“You lived here? It’s a cupboard. Are these boxes are yours?”

“No, I've moved my things into your building. This stuff belongs to my sisters.”

“What if you wanted to visit?”

“I do visit.” I explain patently, “I just don't stay. This isn't my home anymore.” The last part does hurt, I realise that I’ve never said it aloud.

Tamlin is shaking his head. “Is this how you've always lived?”

“No.” I sigh, he’s been with us all day so he may as well know it all. “Only since my dad lost his job and didn't bother to find a new one. Before that, when I was nine or ten and younger, we had a nice house with more space and more furniture. You'd have liked it.”

I think about the emptiness of this place and compare it to our old house. I think about how everything was sold off bit by bit, including the house itself, until we had little more than the clothes on our backs and my mother's books, which now live in the dining room. Books that were kept only since my dad believed them to be worthless and not even worth the time it would take to sell them.

I took a few of those books to a second-hand dealer, one time when we were really desperate, and I didn't get much for them. But being illiterate, I may not have chosen the best books. And I certainly wouldn't have known if I was getting a good deal.

Tamlin brings me back to the present. “How long has your father needed looking after?”

“Ten years?” I guess and he looks horrified.

“Who took care of him?”

I don't answer. He must know that the answer is me. I see him realise that I would have been a child ten years ago. It's neglect without all the details of starvation thrown in.

I watch as he puts together bits and pieces from our conversations. About me coming home at weekends and sending them money. I dread what he will say next. Disowning me would hurt but his pity would destroy me. Instead he says, “you’re dad needs to go to rehab, somewhere good. I’m going to pay for it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Rhys in the next chapter, thank you for being patient!


	10. Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre accepts Tamlin's help and sees an old friend.

**Chapter** **10**

_Imagine a fast flowing river, white foam threatening to breach the high banks, dragging with it everything in its way. Held by that current, I am barely afloat._

_A fork in the river approaches and I can feel that the current is favouring the left branch. I could, with much effort, shift across to the right branch. In this moment, if I wanted to, I could choose a different path-_

_And then the moment passes and I go as the river takes me._

_Maybe both branches will join up further down the river, maybe this choice will have little consequence in the long term… and anyway, I tell myself, really I had no choice, everything happened too fast._

_I tell myself that, remember it that way, to deflect the blame I deserve for the way things have ended up. This is the life I chose._

***

Dad moves into an excellent private rehab facility, too far from Velaris for me to visit - though I am told that visitors are often unhelpful anyway.

I accepted the help for my father, for my family, though a nagging doubt keeps asking how accepting will play out for me personally.

Over the last few days, I have been swept up in the decisions Tamlin has made for me, disempowered by his control over me. But I cannot complain, it is all well-meaning and only for the short term.

_Far better to have someone care enough to help._ It's true, this is just something I haven't had much experience of. So I show Tamlin how thankful I am with my words and, when we are home, with my body. 

As for the rest of my family, my father doesn't know where the money has come from; Elain has shown her gratitude by gushing thanks to Tamlin whenever she can, making me feel a little uncomfortable in the process if I'm honest; and yet her reaction is balanced out by Nesta’s cold indifference. When Tamlin leaves Nesta and I alone, she spits poisoned words my way, telling me to stay out of their lives from now on. I may save my father and lose my sisters through this alliance with Tamlin; time will tell.

Thank goodness for Cassian and the physical release I get from training, even though I am not a very good student at present. I’m finding I have less time to get to the gym and that my concentration is often elsewhere.

Not for the first time tonight, I hit the mat hard and the impact passes from bone to bone like falling dominoes. I curse and take a moment, on my hands and knees, before attempting to stand.

Cassian offers me his hand, "Where's your head at Feyre? It shouldn't be this easy to knock you down."

I scowl, rubbing my elbow. "I'm finding it a little hard to focus, you could go easy on me?"

"You going to ask an attacker to go easy on you too? You're more likely to need these skills if you're walking around looking like life's victim."

My arms snap back into a defensive pose while my eyes note the way he is standing. Cassian might look relaxed as he taunts me, but I can see he is ready for my next move. Always ready.

Still, I get a few half decent hits in before Cassian calls time on the exercise. He slings an arm around my shoulder and leads me to a bench, where our towels and water bottles are waiting.

"You want to talk about whatever's got your head all messed up?"

I instinctively want to say no but Cassian is my only friend outside of Spring. Maybe the only person I _can_ talk to about this.

"My dad was in hospital last weekend, in for three days with alcohol poisoning and concussion. Now he's in rehab."

He squeezes my shoulder. "Sounds like the best place for him, so why do you look so unhappy about it?"

My cheeks heat with embarrassment. "I couldn't afford the treatment. So my…" I stumble over what word to use to describe Tamlin. Boss? Friend? Lover?

Cassian suggests, "Boyfriend?" and I nod.

"Yeah, my boyfriend has paid out and it is more than I'll ever be able to repay him."

"Is he expecting you to pay him back?"

"No.” I say, slowly, “But I don't like feeling as if I am in someone else's debt."

Cassian's face darkens, "Does he treat you that way? Like you owe him?"

Again I hesitate. _Does he?_ I feel in his debt but I felt like that before, because he gave me my dream job and treats me like I’m worth something. Maybe the problem is me, not Tamlin.

I shake my head and try to smile. "No Cassian, it’s fine. I'm just worried about my dad, that's all."

He doesn't look convinced. "True friends don't expect to be paid back. If a true friend helps you out they don't hold it over your head afterwards. They don't use it to control you."

_Control._ I'm not liking that word at the moment. I feel cold, despite the recent work out, and can't find anything to say to Cassian that doesn't give away my nagging fear. Because I can't help but think that Tamlin _will_ want something in return, eventually. And he does find ways to keep control.

But two more weeks pass and Tamlin doesn't ask for anything and our relationship continues much as before.

.o00o.

The morning is moving along at a good pace. Deadlines are being met and all my open tasks feel achievable. Tamlin has spoken to me briefly this morning about me spending a few more days in the finance department, to broaden my experiences ready to take on more responsibility, and I feel my spine straighten at his belief in me. I am literally walking taller.

It is approaching 1pm when a call from reception comes through, I take down the message with a little irritation - an afternoon appointment who has arrived significantly early - but thank the receptionist before rising to pass on the information to Tamlin.

He is in his office with Lucien, who acknowledges me with some warmth and less irritation than when I first started here. He knows there is something between Tamlin and I; I know he sees the heated looks and whispered conversations but only shakes his head with amusement, he hasn’t tried to stand between us. I feel like we could be friends and not just through Tamlin.

“I’m sorry, Tamlin,” I say, walking up to the large table now covered with details of the company’s strategic plan, “but reception just called up to say your 5pm is here.”

The response is not at all what I’d expected.

“What? He’s here? _Now_?” Tamlin is on his feet and staring at the doorway behind me in alarm. I’d laugh if Lucien’s face did not also show the same level of unease as he sweeps the paperwork into a pile and turns the sheets face down on the table.

“Tamlin, he must not see her.”

“I know, I know.” Running a hand through his long hair Tamlin turns to me. “Feyre, you must go in the conference room and make no sound until my meeting is over. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes,” I stammer, completely bewildered.

The conference room is an adjoining room to his office and he hurries me inside, quickly closing the door. I half expect him to lock me in too, but thankfully he doesn’t.

It isn’t long before a growl from Tamlin tells me that their visitor has arrived.

A cold laugh comes in reply. “Now, now, is that any way to greet an old friend?”

“You’re no friend of mine.”

“I’m wounded. But I’m here on business so I will let it go.” I hear a chair being pulled out and imagine the visitor making himself comfortable at the table. “She wanted me to confirm your attendance Under the Mountain next month. Your response seems to have gotten lost in the post.” Something about that voice makes the hairs on my arms stand up and it isn't just the cold cruelty in it.

“I didn’t think there was a choice in the matter.”

“Quite. But she wishes to hear from you nonetheless.”

“We’ll be there Rhysand, you know we will.”

“Rhysand,” the visitor laughs again. “So I’m Rhysand again, am I?”

Lucien speaks for the first time, “You’ve said your piece, now leave.”

“Brave little Lucien, standing up for his new master. I look forward to seeing you too, next month. Until then-” I hear the sound of a moving chair once more and then gasps from both Tamlin and Lucien. “What is this?” The strangers voice is suddenly much quieter and yet far more frightening.

I imagine the room as I’d last seen it, picture the table and wince. I had left my diary on the table earlier in the day and not yet retrieved it. The dark purple cover decorated with delicate silver stars is clearly not to either Tamlin’s or Lucien’s taste. He knows I am here.

“You’re hiding someone from me? Shut away, out of sight? _How dare you_!” Now I hear footsteps but only one set, as though my friends remain standing, simply watching as this predator approaches my hiding place.

I brace for the door to open, which it does, but I am not prepared for the man who finds me. With his dark hair and dangerously dark eyes. With his face contorted with anger and so unlike how I had always seen him before.

He is so familiar to me that I feel as if it could have been six days since we last met but I realise with a start that it must be more like six months.

My mysterious stranger stumbles back a step on seeing me. I see surprise flicker in his eyes for a heartbeat and then it is hidden behind the anger. “Come out and join us,” he is all mock-politeness. I do as he says, keeping my eyes locked on his, “And who might you be?”

“Tell him nothing!” Tamlin’s order cuts across any reply I might have made. Rhysand’s face shows only rage once more as my eyes flick quickly to Tamlin’s and then back again, saying nothing.

“Very well, but she will be expected Under the Mountain Tamlin, _if_ she is still working for you by then.”

The implication, that I may not last another month, stings and makes me reckless. “Oh I’ll be there.” I am proud of the way my voice does not betray all the fear and confusion and hurt I am feeling.

He smirks and takes a step closer to me, blocking my view of Tamlin. “For your sake, I hope not. What’s your name darling?”

I am thrown by his old nickname for me, by the reference to our shared past. I momentarily debate lying before saying, “Feyre.”

“Feyre.” He says my name like a prayer, like it is sacred to him, but his face is still mocking and cruel. Then, nodding briefly to the others he leaves. He may only have stayed a few minutes but those minutes turn my world upside down.

Tamlin collapses into his chair, Lucien paces by the window. I stand, still in the doorway to the conference room, watching them. “Is someone going to explain what that was all about?” When neither choose to answer, I decide to make my question for specific, “Who was that?”

Lucien stops pacing and comes to sit at the table, I sit with him and wait. “Rhysand Night is CEO at Starfall, another publishing house in Velaris.”

“OK. So what is Under the Mountain?”

“It’s a hotel and conference venue about an hour’s drive from the edge of Velaris. It’s carved into a mountain, hence the name. But the event Rhysand was talking about is the annual publishing conference that -”

But here Tamlin interrupts, “That you will _not_ being going to.”

Both Lucien and I speak at the same time. Readying for a fight, I say, “And why not?” While Lucien says, more quietly, “She will be expecting her now Tamlin.” I turn to him in surprise – surprise that he seems to be on my side and so opposing Tamlin.

Tamlin, almost feral by this point, growls at Lucien but says nothing.

We all sit in silence, lost to our own thoughts, until Tamlin picks up the phone on his desk and barks, “Bring the car,” at whoever is on the other end of the line. Then he gets up and pulls me up too as he passes. “We’re going home.” The pent up rage in his face persuades me not to argue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, ten chapters, thanks for sticking with me :)


	11. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre and Tamlin prepare for Under the Mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another bonus update but I think I will be back to Wednesdays only for a while after this. 
> 
> Warning: slight non-con implied, not enough to tag it, I feel. More like dysfunctional relationship.

**Chapter 11**

_I try not to make promises any more. _ _No one can know the future so a promise is just a lie in disguise. _

_I promised a friend that I would come back. I promised and then I left. And I will never see him again, never get the chance to say I am sorry._

_I know he will have worried for me. I hope he has forgotten me by now or grown to hate me or anything except being out there, somewhere, still worrying. _

xxx

Tamlin’s town car races alongside the river, pushing at the edge of the speed limit. But I hardly notice the familiar sights passing by; I am too occupied by studying his face and tracking his rapidly changing mood.

We arrive outside the building we share. I expect he is planning to take me back to my flat, where talking will not be on the agenda. I decide that he is calm enough for me to speak to him but I keep away from the topic I want most to ask about: Under the Mountain. 

“I bet the roof-top garden looks beautiful at twilight.”

I see the confusion as I guide him out of the maze of his thoughts, away from what's bothering him for now, back to me. He doesn’t smile but his face relaxes. “It does,” and after a pause, “did you want to see?”

I force a smile for him and nod, stepping close enough to slip my hand into his. 

At the elevator, I debate initiating more physical contact but decide against it – I’m sure he’ll come to me if that is what he needs. It isn’t long before he does: pulling me into a hug and exhaling against my shoulder.

“Feyre.” Just my name but so full of unsaid thoughts and emotions. 

“It will be ok, Tamlin,” I say, hugging him back. “But let’s forget about it for now. Show me the garden.”

So he does. I hadn't taken the time to fully explore before but now Tamlin takes me along every path and under every blossom-heavy archway. 

Then, he leads me to a simple bench, slatted white-painted wood with no back or arms. I sit, leaving room for him to join me but instead he stands before me, holding my head between his hands. I look up at his face, surrounded by a sky with all the warmth and colours of a bonfire.

“I wish I could help you,” I whisper.

“You are helping me.”

Tamlin lowers his head and captures my lips with his, slowly deepening the kiss. All the while he is leaning closer, encouraging me to lean back until I am flat on the bench looking up at him. He is half on the bench with me, with one knee resting between my legs and his other foot still on the path.

"I want you Feyre."

"Here?" I ask quietly. 

"Here. Now. Before darkness comes.”

I briefly wonder if he means it metaphorically – I wonder if Rhysand is the darkness that Tamlin is really running from. But then his hands begin to remove my clothing and soon all thinking ceases. 

.o0O0o.

At some point we move down stairs to my flat, leaving the garden under a blanket of shadows. We retreat to my bedroom until around six, when Tamlin goes back to his own flat, claiming that he needs to work. I see the blend of undefined emotions back in his eyes as I let him go.

Finally alone, I start to process the afternoon for myself. There has been so much to take in and I know there are really only two options: art or sparring. I hesitation for only a moment before grabbing my gym bag and heading out.

At the door, Cassian stops me with a hand on my shoulder, shaking his head.

"What?" I'm not in the mood for games.

"You're not coming in looking like that. When was the last time you ate?" It is true that I skipped lunch today. It is also true that skipping meals is becoming increasingly common. To Cass though, I just shrug.

He huffs and turns me around. "I'm feeding you, you look like shit." He is so serious, and the mother hen thing suits him surprisingly well, so I find I have to laugh. In response, Cassian throws me a lopsided grin.

"Have you ever had Illyrian food?"

"Nope."

"Excellent! Two birds, one stone." I realise that arguing would be a total waste of effort so I fall into step and listen as Cassian describes the restaurant we are heading for.

Once we are seated, I take a good look round. It is a busy, family run business with some tables on the street and some inside. I let Cassian order for both of us and I can't help but notice the pitying looks the staff are giving me.

"Why are they looking at me like that?" I whisper when we are alone.

"Like what?" Cass might be able to predict someone's next move in a fight based on body language alone but when it comes to the looks we are attracting he seems to be oblivious.

"Everyone's looking at me like they want to tell me they're sorry."

"Oh," he glances at the owner behind the bar and then back at me. "They probably think you're my date."

My jaw falls open but when I realise he's not joking I snort. "Sounds like you've got a reputation."

"Hmmm. Unfairly." He mumbles and I laugh again.

"Somehow I doubt there is anything unfair about it."

"Well since you've recovered enough to be making fun of me, this seems like a good moment to ask what had you looking so out of sorts?" He drops his voice to a softer tone, "how's your dad?"

"He's fine, doing well actually. I haven't seen him but one of my sisters has. He is still a good few weeks away from coming home but the rehab place say he's made good progress so far."

"OK, so it's the boyfriend?" Cassian guesses and I flinch.

"No, at least, it's not his fault. Work is tough for him at the moment, I want to help but he's not letting me in."

Our food arrives and I look across the four dishes he has chosen for us to share, tapas style, suddenly feeling much more hungry.

"Make sure you're looking after yourself too, if you want to help him you need to be healthy."

"Yes mum," I manage between mouthfuls of food.

Under the table he kicks me and then moves out of retaliation range, grinning.

"There _was_ something today that's shook me up a bit." I admit. "We had a visitor at work who treated everyone like dirt. It shouldn't matter, I've met enough arseholes, but I'd met this guy before. A few times actually. I thought he was one of the good ones… I thought I was a better judge of character."

"We all get it wrong sometimes."

I nod and let the subject drop, though inside I'm still wondering whether I _did_ get him wrong. I remember the way the anger fell away when he saw me, like a mask slipping out of place.

What's really got me is that when I try to remember the way he looked at me the night we watched the stars, or the looks he used to send me across the crowded bar, I can only see his face contorted with rage. I've overwritten my memories, and it makes me sad - good memories are a little on short supply. 

Cassian and I finish everything he orders and ask for seconds of a dish we'd been fighting over. When we leave I am stuffed, happy and distracted.

.o0O0o.

I wake to Tamlin’s fingers lightly rubbing my nipples, coaxing them to harden for him. I smile, "Morning." 

"Good morning," and he kissed me. 

It’s the first time he has come back to me in the morning, the first time I have woken with him there. There will need to be a conversation about _how_ he got back in, even if he does own the whole building, but his mood has improved so much since yesterday that I shelve the subject for now.

"Is it time to get up?" 

"No, it's still early." Despite the relaxed way his fingers still tease me, fuelling the arousal that never really goes away if he is nearby, I sense some anxiety in his voice. 

"What is it?" 

"You'll have to come with me to Under the Mountain. Rhysand, damn him, was right - the only way to save you from it would be to fire you. And I'm sorry Feyre, but I just can't do that." 

"Good. I don't want you to fire me."

He bends his head to lick across one nipple then he props his head up so that he can blow gently over the still damp flesh. My back arches with the sensation and my eyelids close on a sigh.

"You don't understand, this isn't just a conference.” Another lick, another gust of warm air. “It was always a pissing contest between the publishing houses but it’s been warped by…" 

"By _her_? The person you wanted to hide me from?" 

"Yes. Amarantha." 

I push up onto my elbows and smile as he meets my eyes. "I'm not afraid, Tamlin. I'll come with you." 

His face crumples with an expression I can’t read. Then he pushes me down against the mattress and makes me come three times before breakfast.

.o0O0o.

The month building up to Under the Mountain is awful. Neither Lucien or Tamlin will talk openly about it and Tamlin's sudden shifts in mood make everyone's lives difficult.

Most evenings he comes home with me but sometimes he turns up in the middle of the night too. He now has a key so I don't wake until he slips into bed beside me. Sometimes I don't wake until he is preparing my body for his.

Physical release seems to be the only way to wind in his stress and anger so I'm glad to have a way to help. But I'll be more glad once this conference is over.

In that last week before we head out of Velaris for the conference, I make my way over to meet Cassian at the gym.

It's a good session, even though Cassian knocks me down with a particularly good hit that I know will leave a bruise right across my rib cage.

It has begun to feel natural, to move and use my body this way. My muscles act on memory and my mind reads his body in a way I still wouldn’t be able to describe in words. I respond faster. And when I fall down, I get back up faster. All thanks to Cassian.

Cassian is grinning at me like he knows what I am thinking. “You’ve come a long way in a short time, _really. _You know I always tell it how it is. You’re doing really well Feyre.” He slaps me on the back hard enough to knock me forward a step. I splash him with water from my bottle in revenge.

“A good time to take a break then,” I say, knowing this is the time for the conversation I’ve been dreading.

Cassian stops and looks at me blankly, “What? You’re giving up?”

“No,” I say in a rush, “not giving up, just taking a break? Only a couple of weeks or so, just until work calms down.”

He looks like a kicked puppy as he leans against the wall, watching me. “You’ll come back?”

“Yes,” I smile and move to lean next to him, bumping his shoulder with mine. “It’s only for a couple of weeks. I didn’t realised you’d miss me so much.”

I mean it as a joke but his look floors me, “Of course I’ll miss you, you’re my friend.”

Tears catch me by surprise. I feel them forming and, to keep Cass from seeing, I throw my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. His laugh is muffled against me as he hugs me back.

“Look,” he says as we pull apart, “Where’s your phone? Let me give you my number.”

I freeze. Alarm bells in my head begin to ring, warning me. “No, Cass, sorry. My boyfriend wouldn’t like that.”

“Why? It’s your phone.”

“I know, but he’d be angry if he found out I had messages from you.”

“He looks at your phone?” Cassian’s voice is deeper, more threatening, but I know his anger is not directed at me.

I hesitate. Technically, I have no evidence that Tamlin is looking at my phone, but some mornings I’m sure it has been moved since the night before. And ignoring the way he scowls when I talk to a male colleague for too long, I don’t know that he’d be cross about Cassian. Truth is, I don’t know _anything_ for sure. But hopefully everything will be better after Under the Mountain.

I shake my head, smiling as convincingly as I can. “He wouldn’t do that. Look, let me talk to him first, in a couple of weeks when work is easier. Then we can swap numbers, I promise.”

Cassian is not smiling, he continues watching me carefully. “Feyre, if you ever needed somewhere to go-”

“Honestly, everything is fine,” I interrupt, “_and_ my self-defence teacher says I’m doing really well!”

His face is still serious, still troubled. “I’m here Feyre, if you need me.”

I drop my head, looking at the floor and my shoes and everything that isn’t Cassian. “I know,” I whisper.

I feel his arms around me again. “You’ll come back?” he asks for a second time.

“I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We go Under the Mountain on Wednesday!


	12. Under the Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre goes Under the Mountain.

**Chapter 12**

_I remember the car taking the slip road off the motorway and being surprised at how quickly tarmac gave way to a loose road surface, pitching us up and down in our seats, as we pulled into the car park. _

_I should have been afraid but by the time I truly realised what Tamlin had meant by 'warped', it was too late. That day, I was simply curious. _

_The hotel is all on one level, excavated from the mountain. All the main rooms and high-end suites are found towards the front, their windows opening to views back towards Velaris. Those less fortunate find their rooms deeper within the rock - far from natural light and fresh air. The hotel was designed so that even these rooms would include a ‘window’, which took the form of a piece of frosted glass hiding an orange tinted bulb. _

_There are so many memories that I can’t think about directly. Even the memory of that fake window is painful. It was depressing when on, looked eerie when off and in no way could it simulate the night sky. _

_I missed the stars – more than once I thought I’d never see them again… _

_But I made it home. Lucien reminds me of this often, when he sees the rising panic from some tiny similarity, bringing it all back. _

_I made it home. Life goes on. _

_And what a life it is. _

****

On conference day one, I wake stiff from the final spar with Cassian and with the first twinges of anxiety. Tamlin is called to a breakfast meeting at the hotel and leaves early in a car that Amarantha sends for him. All the significant people at Spring will be going, heads of departments, team leaders ect, but none of them look happy about it.

The plan is for me to share a lift with Lucien and by the time our car arrives, he looks gaunt. "What's your problem?"

He shakes his head and ignores my question. "You don't need to go, we can say you've left the company and find a way to re-employ you in secret after the conference."

I actually laugh. "Lucien, this is ridiculous! However unpleasant this Amarantha is, we are still talking about five days in a hotel. I'll be fine."

We arrive mid-afternoon alongside many other cars and though I know only Lucien, he seems to recognise everyone. But, bizarrely, barely anyone speaks, not even just to say hello. They all seem to share this collective melancholy.

Suddenly there is a second face I know and he doesn’t look melancholy - he looks livid.

Rhysand says nothing to me but quietly rounds on Lucien. "So you decided to bring her. Was this your idea Lucien? Is she to be your human shield after last year? Or was it thick headed Tamlin, who just couldn't put somebody else's needs first?"

"Enough, Rhys. Tamlin knows what he's doing."

"Tamlin knows nothing," Rhys spits and disappears into the crowd.

Lucien visibly wilts. I put a hand on his shoulder and he manages a weak smile in thanks. "Let's get our things to our rooms,” I suggest.

Lucien improves with a task to focus on, and while he speaks to the receptionist I look around the entrance hall. The ceiling is surprisingly high, given this whole place was excavated from the mountain. Instead of paintings or other decorations, I can see etchings done directly into the rock walls. Gas burning lanterns give out enough light for the space but leave me very aware of the shadows, the way they move, creeping closer when I’m not looking.

"There must be a mistake!" I turn back to listen, noting Lucien's flushed face. “You've put mine and Tamlin's rooms at one end of the hotel and Feyre at the other."

"No mistake Sir, this is as per Amarantha's request."

_And so the game begins,_ I think. _If she wants to split us up, then fine._

"Leave it Lucien, it's ok." I take the key that the lady across the desk is offering me and wonder what else could be waiting in my room.

We agree to meet for dinner and Lucien agrees to track down Tamlin in the meantime. I make my way alone down the dimly lit corridors, checking the number on my key every few doors. No one else seems to be staying down here. I feel the hairs on my arms stand up but refuse to consciously acknowledge any fear.

Unconsciously, I allow my imagination to flow as I approach my door, until I am convinced that traps, trip-wires and any number of other horrors await me.

The room, however, is basic but non-threatening. It’s a sparsely furnished, single with a small en suite and shower room. I've stayed in far worse, my family’s home for one. I expect that the others have far nicer accommodation but honestly, if this is the torture Amarantha has planned for me, then this week will be a breeze!

.o0O0o.

As the time set for dinner approaches, I check my hair and change into the only decent dress I own. Reaching for the zip is a pain, literally, due to the bruise I have on my ribs curtesy of Cassian; when it is in place I hurry back to the main dining room, which I’d noticed earlier by reception.

Lucien I find easily enough. "Where's Tamlin?" I ask, claiming the spare seat beside him and glancing at the other half dozen faces around our table, all employees from Spring Publishers.

"Over there," he replies, pointing in a subtle way that tells me he doesn’t want to be seen talking about Tamlin. I follow his finger to the top table where Tamlin sits dressed in his finest suit beside a woman with fire red hair. Whereas Lucien's hair has always made me think of freshly fallen autumn leaves, this woman's hair is wild fire and anger.

"Is that-"

"Yes," he interrupts. "Don't make eye contact."

I’m not sure if he means Amarantha or Tamlin, though it hardly matters since the latter is staring firmly ahead, his face void of all emotion. "Why is he up there?"

"Whatever Amarantha wants, she gets."

The meal begins as hotel servers with trolleys bring out plates to the many tables in the hall. I watch the swing doors to the kitchen open and close so many times I loose count.

The food seems to help people relax and bubbles of conversation break out all around me. Fragile bubbles that are popped with a one look from Amarantha. I cast my eyes around the room and nudge Lucien to get his attention. "So, who is everyone?"

"Can't you wait till tomorrow?" I can see he is nervous and it is partly to distract him that I insist he satisfy my curiosity regarding the other diners.

"Just the main players?" I plead.

Finally he nods, and beneath the low murmurs of conversation Lucien takes me on a verbal guided tour, stopping table by table to introduce me to friends and rivals alike. I eat little while Lucien talks, piling my food to one side to disguise this. Maybe I am more nervous than I thought.

I realise I know a pitiful amount about the other companies represented here. Whether this was an oversight or if Tamlin has intentionally kept me ignorant, I couldn't say.

Whenever I can, I steel glances at the top table and feel smug satisfaction to see that Tamlin is not speaking to her.

When nothing bad befalls me between courses I start to feel more comfortable. I even enjoy some of the fruit crumble. But as the last plates are taken away, Amarantha's eyes find mine in the crowd and I realise my mistake. She hadn't forgotten me; she has simply been the spider at the edge of the web, choosing her moment.

"It is time to welcome our guest of honour." Amarantha's voice is strong without needing to be loud. The hall falls silent, waiting. "Come, come now Feyre. Don't be shy."

Lucien grips my knee hard under the table but I stand anyway, hadn't he already told me that Amarantha always gets what she wants?

I feel the eyes of everyone in the hall burning into me, everyone except Tamlin who refuses to acknowledge me as I approach his table.

"This, ladies and gentlemen, is Ms Feyre Archeron, the latest talent to come out of Spring Publishing. And she is here to tell us all how she came to climb so quickly to the top." My lips had parted in surprise at this introduction. I glance at the room, now waiting for me to speak, and wonder why Amarantha would want me to address this group of people. And talk about myself… Where would I even start?

_She wants me to make a fool of myself,_ I realise.

So I fall back on my strengths. Public speaking I cannot do. But stubborn silence, now that is something I have a talent for. Too many years taking Nesta's insults, too many shifts with the drunks at Bryaxis. Yes, I can stand here and take it. I follow Tamlin's example and face forwards, showing nothing of the anger and hate building inside me. _Do your worst, bitch._

"Such a shame, it seems our guest is shy. But never fear," her voice drops the theatrics, "I can tell you her story."

It is hard to listen to Amarantha paint a picture of my childhood to this room of mostly strangers. Especially hard since she barely needs to add or embellish the truth to suit her purpose. I am already the poorly-educated, outcast she wants them to think I am.

There _are_ a few nasty surprises in her tale though.

I don't know how she found out about the police caution for stealing when I was ten. I find myself remembering that day as she continues on - the day I decided my job was to protect my family, to get what they needed whether that was toothpaste, bread or something else completely, whatever the personal cost.

I got caught more than once but the shopkeepers mostly took one look at the scrawny kid in front of them, clearly skipping school and pushed the stolen groceries my way. I never thanked them but I never stole from the same store more than once - I had my own code.

Even the caution was a joke, Amarantha doesn’t tell everyone, but the officer who took me home that day gave me a bag of food at the doorstep. I protected my family then and I'd do it again. If Amarantha thinks she can embarrass me this way, she is wrong.

Her story moves on. Past me working two part time jobs while studying, past my pathetic exam results and onto my big break - the job at Spring.

I clear my features and tell myself to listen as though she was talking about someone else. _Look bored._ But it’s harder now. Now that the picture she paints of me is all wrong. The flirt. The slut. The girl who fucks her way past every challenge.

"Just like she practiced when she was 16, when she slept with men for money."

Blood drains from my face. _Oh no. How the fuck does she know about that?_

I'd been desperate. Stealing credit for an electricity meter was not as easy as stealing food. And my sisters were older by then, they needed money for school…

_It was only three times_, I tell myself, fingernails digging into my palms, _and always the same man_. Isaac had been kind, had been generous. Of all the men who could have found me… I'd been lucky.

And then I'd got the superstore job and I’d been able to stop selling the only thing of value I had. Myself.

"There must be something special about her, don't you think? For the CEO of Spring to still want her, she must be something pretty special, not just your common whore." Amarantha is closer now, just over my shoulder, though I refuse to turn. "Let's take a look." Almost whisper, she could have been speaking only to me. But the whole hall hears and mine isn’t the only gasp when a man I've never seen before steps behind me, grips my shoulder with one hand and with the other drags down the zip of my dress.

"No!" I pull away but my eyes catch on Tamlin, still in his seat staring straight ahead. Saying nothing, doing nothing. And the fight goes out of me. _I came here for you_, I think, as my dress drops down to my ankles. I don’t try to hide my underwear or cover the bruise. _Help me_. But he doesn’t. Can’t or won’t; it almost doesn’t matter.

"Oh, my apologies ladies and gentlemen, it seems there's been a mistake! There is _nothing_ special about Ms Archeron after all. She _damaged goods_." Amarantha laughs and it’s a sound I know I will hear in my nightmares. "Mr Attor, take her back to her room."

Dismissed. Just like that it’s over. The man who had unzipped me grabs my arm and, without letting me pick up the dress, leads me out of the room. But not by the most direct route - oh no! Me and my underwear walk past every damn table.

I hold my head high. Though I feel tears collecting in my eyes, not a single one falls. Most people make a point if looking elsewhere as I pass. Some glance up at me in sympathy before quickly feeling the need to study their hands or shoes. Only Rhysand stares unflinchingly back at me, meeting my gaze and matching my anger. I want to shout, _what do you have to be angry about?_

Just as we reach the door, I pull out of Mr Attor's grip and look back at Amarantha. No longer emotion free, now I make sure my face conveys all the hate and promises of revenge that I can find within me.

Hate is another thing that I do well.

.o0O0o.

Back in clothes and feeling more human, I have paced this small box of a room. I have pounded on the door. I have stared at the fake window.

Mr Attor locked me in but not before he passed on a message from her - that if I tried anything she would see to it that Tamlin was removed as CEO of Spring, that Lucien was out of a job, and that all the others at Spring would suffer. Because if me.

So having worn myself out from pacing I now retreat to the single bed, where I sit cross-legged with hot tears streaming down my face.

This is when the door opens and Rhysand, of all people, walks in carrying my dress over one arm.

“Still crying? I thought I’d waited long enough.” His cruel words and tone crush my faint hope that he’d come to help me.

“What?”

“I warned you but you came anyway.”

“I didn’t know it would be like this.”

“So leave.”

“The door was locked.”

“And now it isn’t.”

I hesitate. He’s serious.

“But my friends-”

“Your _friends_ brought you here, knowing what would happen.”

There’s some truth in that but this is not a conversation I can have with Rhysand. I fight back. "Why are you being such an arsehole? I don't get it. You’re like a totally different person now. Or were all those times at Bryaxis just a lie?"

He turns back towards the door and at first I think he’s leaving without a reply but then he stops, "I'll answer your question if you answer one of mine." He won't look at me so I study his profile, trying to find the catch in this agreement.

"Fine." I can always refuse to answer, might as well hear his question - I'll learn something from that either way.

When Rhysand finally speaks, his voice is quietly dangerous. "Does he hit you?"

"What? _Who?_"

The tension in his neck and shoulders is obvious from across the room. "We all saw the bruise on your side. And you have older bruises too, on your elbows, your shoulder. Did Tamlin give you those bruises?"

I'm speechless. Rhys continues to stare at the door, pretending he's not waiting impatiently for my answer. But I can see the tension in his jaw, the fixed stare. I'd put money on the hands in his pockets being clenched into fists. 

"No," I whisper, "He wouldn't do that."

I hear Rhys huff out a breath which becomes a low laugh, one with no humour in it, as he turns to me, eyebrows raised, "Wouldn't he?"

But it is not a taunt, simply a question. One I choose not to answer, not knowing how to respond.

Instead I remind him of our deal, "So, those times at Bryaxis? Was it all a lie?"

He looks back at me with only tired sadness in his violet eyes, stunning even in the dim and unnatural light of this room. "No. Never."

Then I watch him go, feeling more confused and alone than before.


	13. Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre makes a choice and receives a gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finding it tricky to keep the Under the Mountain part of this story somewhat plausible. Thanks to everyone for being so encouraging, the kudos and comments mean a lot :)

**Chapter 13**

_Sleep is something I have found elusive since I went Under the Mountain. It comes to me in short bursts and at odd times. _

_Nightmares wake me if I sleep too long, some I recognise from before. Others are completely new, inspired by the week that changed everything. The worst are the dreams that start off as re-runs of actual events but then morph into what ifs? What if he had reached me in time? What if she had stayed to finish the job? What if it hadn't been me at all but my friends or family?_

_I'm so tired that some of these are not nightmares at all, but waking dreams thought up to torment me during day and night alike, and I can't tell the difference. _

_I wish I could sleep and wake up feeling rested. But if I cannot have that, then I wish I could sleep and never wake up at all. _

***

I'm up early, in truth I've barely slept so I could just as easily say I'm up late. Sometime around 5am I move to sit by the 'window' of frosted glass that hides the rock behind it. 

Losing my battle to believe that the world is still out there, I feel tears on my cheeks again. The walls and ceiling crowd me so I shrink to fit the space, pulling my feet up onto the seat of the chair and hugging my knees. 

I understand every look now. Every time Lucien suggested that I stay behind or failed to answer my questions. Poor Lucien, from what Rhysand said in reception, he must have been Amarantha's target last year. He survived a whole week of this! 

_Will I?_

I close my eyes and picture the night sky, high above me. In my mind I pass through layer after layer of rock to reach it. If I could just see the stars, I think I could find the strength to see this through… 

A knock at the door has me instantly on my feet. It’s not even seven o’clock yet. "Who's there?" I call out, foolishly - I can't open the door, I don't choose who comes in. 

Rhysand comes in. My face must show the conflict I feel as he closes the door but keeps his distance. On one level, he is simply a man who I met through a previous job – in a previous life. Not even a friend, though I think we _could_ have been friends. Maybe more? There was a connection between us, one I'm sure that he felt too. 

However, none of that can outweigh his connection to Amarantha. He does her bidding and with a cruel enjoyment too. There are certainly sides in this game: Lucien and Tamlin are on one side, Rhysand and _her_ on the other. I know which side I choose. So I’m cautious and I wait for him to break the silence.

“How did you sleep?”

“Seriously?” I see him wince at my tone, and he is so much more like the old-Rhys that I decide to try to meet him half way. “About as well as can be expected,” I finish, taking the bite out of my words.

“You did well, last night. You didn’t let her get her claws in.”

I don’t want this praise. I don’t want to acknowledge that last night really happened, that everyone _knows_.

"What's going on Rhys?" I am surprised by how steady my voice is as I force each syllable out. "Can she really keep me here?" 

"No, she can't." A muscle in his jaw twitches. His tell.

"But?" I say, since the word is hanging in the air between us. 

"_But_ if you go, she will take revenge on Spring Publishing."

"She can do that? Everything she threatened to do?" 

"Yes, she may not be able to keep you here against your will but she certainly has the power to make their lives hell. And she will do it too - to make a point."

I slump back down into the chair, still warm from where I'd been huddled for hours. "The door was locked all night." 

"I know, I will need to lock it again when I leave," he says apologetically, and then in two steps he crosses the room and crouches down so that he is looking up into my face. Those eyes draw me in and I don’t break eye contact even when he takes my hands. "I can get you out of here, Feyre. She’s sending me out for the day on errands, I can take you with me, take you somewhere far from here.”

I stare at him, stunned. And, for a moment, I'm tempted. Briefly, I picture myself free of all this, but…. "I can't," my voice cracks on the word. 

"Why not?" For the first time since entering my room his face seems almost angry, but the light grip on my hands doesn’t change. 

"Because… Because they’re my _family_. Tamlin and Lucien and all the others at Spring. I can't do that to them." 

That twitching muscle is back but he says nothing. After gently squeezing my hands he rises to his feet and walks away from me. At the door I stop him, "You'd really get me out of here?" 

He turns back to face me and the hope in his eyes is a knife in my chest. "Say the word and it's done." 

I shake my head, "No, I'm staying but… you'd do that for me? Surely there would be a cost?" We both knew I didn’t mean a financial cost. 

"One I'm happy to pay." 

"_Why_?"

I can’t understand this. Why - when even Tamlin will not speak up for me?

He smiles sadly, gazing at the floor between us and is silent for so long that I'm thinking this is all the answer I’m going to get. Then he replies, "If you saw yourself the way I see you, then you wouldn't ask that question."

Those words, and the scraping sound of the lock that follows them, are still echoing around inside my skull many hours later.

.o0O0o.

Amarantha leaves me alone all morning and past lunch, I wonder if I have been forgotten or if this time alone is intentional. 

She leaves me to remember her story and feel the absence of my friends. _Is she keeping them away or is it my past that does that?_ I want to believe that Tamlin would look beyond her obvious attempts at manipulation. Yet he seems more a stranger here than on my first day at Spring Publishing. 

Rhys' visits are both a comfort and not. He reminds me that I am not alone but every interaction with that man is a contradiction. And that he was so keen to get me out of here is concerning - I try not to think up ways this week could get worse. Solitude doesn't help with this. 

"Feyre?" 

I have my head pressed to the door in an instant. "Lucien?" 

"Thank goodness. Hang on, I'll just get the door open… there." He pushes the door inwards and I move back to let him enter. Lucien has a large collection of keys on a ring, master keys I'd guess. At my look he blushes. "Stolen," he admits, "from reception, so I don't have long. But I wasn't sure if she was feeding you." 

A carrier bag is pressed into my hands, full of the sort of food it's easy to hide away and two bottles of water. I take out an apple and start eating, realising that I have missed multiple meals.

"Tell me what's happening," I say, needing to eat but not wanting him to leave.

"Normal Under the Mountain routine - some networking and publishing related talks mixed in with Amarantha causing hell. Tarquin from Adriata was today's victim but she hasn't forgotten you. I think she's saving you for tomorrow."

"Excellent," I say, pulling the cardboard sleeve away from a pre-made sandwich, "Something to look forward to." 

"This isn't a joke, Feyre." 

The sandwich is forgotten. "Really? You think I don't know that? She told everyone here about my past, about my _life_. Those were _my_ secrets that should have been mine to keep." I can see Lucien trying to calm me down, see his nervous glances back out towards the corridor. But I'm on a roll. "And then she gets that nasty man to take my dress off and parade me round the room. So yeah, I think it's safe to assume I'm not finding any of this funny." 

"Attor is a creep, he idolises Amarantha, he's been her sidekick for years. But it's Rhysand you need to be careful of." 

"Oh? Why's that?" I go back to my sandwich, hoping my expression and tone say _I'm only mildly interested_ when in truth my heart is racing and I have to remind myself to breathe steadily. 

"He's a clever, self-serving bastard is why. It's his fault Amarantha can do what she does. He let her into his company and signed over so much that she has the controlling power, though he's still CEO in name. Then through the links between all the publishing houses she extended her reach across Valaris until knew all of our weaknesses. Mostly Rhys does the dirty work for her, he does whatever she tells him to."

An uncomfortable feeling flows over me. Over the last couple of weeks I’ve heard several people, including Lucien, refer to Rhysand in a different way. With a name I’d brushed off as simply an insult, but what if…?

"Back at Spring, you called him Amarantha’s whore." I am almost afraid to ask. "You didn't mean literally?" 

Lucien looks at me hard, "He'll do _anything_ for her, Feyre. She controls him. Yes - I meant it literally, it's not a secret." 

"That's horrible." 

My friend shrugs. "He made his bed, so to speak."

"And what about Tamlin?" 

"What about Tamlin?" 

"Does she control him too?" 

"No, Feyre, never." 

"But he won't even look at me. Whenever I-" 

Lucien interrupts me, "He's trying to keep you _safe_. If she sees what you mean to him then everything will be worse - for him, for you, for all of us. You _know_ how he feels about you, Feyre.” I look away, taking a fresh bite and eating in silence. “Just get to the end of the week, OK?" 

I am quiet for the rest of our time together, allowing Lucien to choose the subject and carry the conversation until I have eaten all the supplies he's brought me. With his voice to sooth me I can sort through my emotions. I certainly feel reassured by Lucien's words, this is _just_ one week and Tamlin hasn't forgotten me.

But a small, selfish part of me still wishes that Tam would fight back, show me that I’m not suffering alone.

And despite Lucien story, I can’t understand how Amarantha holds all these people within her control. 

I wait until Lucien had said goodbye before I let my thoughts turn to Rhys. Here the man Lucien describes and the person I met in Bryaxis, and occasionally see glimpses of here, are two very different people. And, whatever the reasons behind it, I can’t help but be sad that Rhys is tied to that woman. 

.o0O0o.

When Mr Attor arrives at 7pm, not with food but with a plastic carrier bag containing a dress, my curiosity wins over stubborn silence.

“What's this?” 

“You're to wear it.” 

“Why?”

His limited patience with me runs out. “You have 5 minutes.” 

I pull the dress free from the bag as soon as the door closes. It is… well, it's beautiful. I've never seen a dress that's called out to me like this one does. Now I'm holding it, soon to be wearing it. 

It is a blue, halter style dress with a flared skirt and an open back. At the hem the material is so light it’s almost white but, rising up the dress, the pale blue darkens becoming sky blue and finally the colour of midnight. Glitter is woven into the materials like stars. 

I am speechless. 

I don't understand why, but if I am to face Amarantha again then I'm incredibly grateful to have armour like this. 

Once I am wearing the dress I add a small amount of makeup around my eyes. And let my hair out of the braid I've been wearing since yesterday. 

The door opens with a single knock to warn me but luckily I am ready for Amarantha's pet. He offers his arm but I decline. As I follow him back to the hall, I remind myself that Tamlin will be there. I also remind myself that he will likely ignore me, as he did yesterday. 

As soon as we enter the hall, now clear of dining tables and chairs, I see a tray of wine glasses and help myself to one. Alcohol is going to be necessary tonight, I think. 

Amarantha glances my way as I enter but doesn't stop her conversation to approach me. A man with dark skin and silver hair is standing tall and expressionless before her and I wonder if this is the new victim Lucien had mentioned.

Either way, I am free from Amarantha but not Mr Attor, who follows me as I walk around the hall, saying nothing. 

I find Lucien with a group of Spring executives who all leave as I approach - I don't blame them. Lucien raises his eyebrows and smiles as he looks me up and down. 

"You look amazing." 

"You could try to sound less surprised," I tease. 

"That dress is stunning." 

"I know. _He_ gave it to me,” I add, nodding my head towards Mr Attor, now standing close enough to watch my every move but too far to overhear. “It's not what I was expecting.”

“Stay on your guard, Feyre,” Lucien warns. And that is all the conversation I am allowed.

Amarantha’s voice rises above all others, “Stop looking so miserable, it’s time to dance.” I turn and see her eyes narrow as she scrutinises me wearing the new dress. “Rhysand. A word.” Though I would like to listen or at least watch the following conversation, Mr Attor takes my arm and drags me to the centre of the hall.

Music starts and I realise what is about to happen. Despite every effort to pull away, I feel his hands on my waist and we dance in a start-stop, staccato style. I’m aware of eyes watching us. At every turn I search in vain for green eyes flecked with gold.

Fighting to keep him out of my personal space is exhausting and every time to music changes I find a new glass of wine, until I am several glasses past my normal limit. I’ve never been much of a drinker, partly from a lack of money but mostly from seeing it ruin my father over the years. Besides, I crave control too much to give it up for alcohol. But tonight…

The touch of his clammy hands against bare skin. His odour all around me. I’ll do anything to dull these sensations.

I am about to drop when a new pair of hands at my waist spins me round and I feel Mr Attor release me - finally! I lean into the warmth of this new body and the comforting citrus scent.

“You looked in need of a new partner.” _Rhys_. I don't bother to reply as we start to move together. “How do you like the dress, darling?”

I squint up at him, his face swaying in and out of focus, as I slowly process the question. “_You_ got me this dress?”

He smiles, “I did. It’s my way of making a point.”

I don’t have the mental capacity for this. My forehead drops onto his chest and I feel his chuckle as he pulls me in close. “What point?” I mumble.

His lips brush the shell of my ear. “That in this game of hers, I'd put my money on you.”

He half carries me around the hall another three times before coming to a stop. It’s a long time since I have looked up from his shirt, preferring the black silk to the ever-changing view of the hall. But I look up now and find Tamlin staring at us.

I can imagine his view: Rhysand’s arrogant smirk, his arms around me, his hand resting on the bare skin of my back. And me, clinging to him, my body flush with his as I struggle to remain standing.

I feel Rhys sweep the last of my hair over one shoulder, baring my neck. Slowly, he bends his head and runs his lips up my neck from my shoulder to my ear, where he pauses and says, loud enough for Tamlin to hear, “Time for bed.”

He is being provocative but I am not his target. I should feel used yet the idea of _bed_ is so tempting that I simply nod my head and tighten my grip on Rhysand’s shirt.

Tamlin’s growl follows us out of the hall and into the quiet, dimly lit corridor. Now completely spent, I surrender my weight against Rhysand and have no memory at all of returning to my room.

So I am grateful next morning to wake covered by a blanket and still wearing the beautiful dress from the night before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly longer chapter this week. I hope you enjoyed this one. L x


	14. Riddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre is asked a riddle and offered a bargain.

**Chapter 14**

_I rarely cry._

_Before Under the Mountain, I would have said that I never cried at all. If tears formed, I would contain them to my eyes. Trapped and controlled, like the emotions that triggered them._

_I have never been someone who wants to talk about my feelings. I only want to ignore them and for others to do the same._

_But I cried rivers Under the Mountain. There is a lake deep inside that mountain, filled with my misery and mortification. And yet, only one person ever saw me cry. One person who made it ok to feel and be honest with myself._

_Since I’ve been home I have only cried in private. He will never believe that I am strong enough to go out if he see me in the grip of distress, unable to verbalise even what has caused it._

_So I hide in solitude and camouflage when in company._

***

My mouth is dry and my head is throbbing.

I’ve spent much of the morning with my eyes closed, piecing last night together like a jigsaw – an especially cruel one where the pieces are irregular shapes, some are double sided and many are missing.

The clearest moments all feature Rhysand: him spinning me around the hall, showing off the amazing dress - his gift; his arms holding me close; his scent and warmth giving me strength; how easy it felt to trust him.

My reminiscing is cut short when Mr Attor returns to my door.

"It's time!" I have a feeling he is hoping I will answer _time for what?_ But I leave him unsatisfied.

We walk in silence back down the winding corridors, now more familiar to me. My stomach tells me it is roughly lunchtime, I wonder if feeding me is on the agenda... or just feeding me to Amarantha.

When we reach the hall I am disappointed to see the chairs set out in rows instead of around tables. And no food.

At the front is Amarantha, a large drop-down projector screen and Tamlin.

He still will not meet my eye but I am careful not to let her see how much that hurt. A stabbing pain in my head is accompanied by a brief memory of last night – Tamlin’s rage at Rhysand taking me off the bed. Maybe he really is angry with me today; maybe some of the indifference is in revenge.

When Mr Attor has led me to the front and left me there, Amarantha tells the room to prepare themselves as I will soon demonstrate my greatness for them all.

It is an effort not to roll my eyes. _Let her have her fun,_ I tell myself. Cassian would tell me to watch and wait for the right moment, so that’s what I’ll do.

My concentration shifts back Tamlin, searching him for signs or clues of what she has over him. I almost miss Lucien being pushed forwards through the crowd, until we are standing across from each other, the blank projector screen handing between and above us.

"Since Feyre was reluctant to share her genius with us on Monday, I have decided to raise the stakes. Lucien here is a relatively new addition to Spring Publishing, only a few years since he jumped from Wildfire Press, but he’s already a proven asset, don't you agree Tamlin?"

My CEO remains silent. I feel my anger grow on Lucien's behalf - _the answer is yes!_ He could at least nod.

Amarantha continued regardless, "So today if Feyre does not complete my challenge, Lucien will lose his job."

I'm suddenly very glad I haven’t eaten today or I may just have lost my lunch. I look at Lucien, his face is tight, his lips thin. I try to smile, reassure him that he'll keep his job, but I get nothing back.

Amarantha is waiting and enjoying every second. I sense that she wants me to ask her, to accept the challenge.

"What do I need to do?"

Her grin widens. She is the over-fed house cat playing with a mouse it has no intention of eating. This is all a game with no purpose beyond her own entertainment.

"I'm going to give you a riddle. Solve it and save Little Lucien's job. But if you don't solve it, Lucien loses his job and," now she turns to the collected crowd, "no one in this room will ever offer him a job again."

I feel my eye begin to twitch and the drumming in my head intensify. I'd never had much time for riddles growing up, but for Lucien I will have to figure this out.

"Fine,” I snap. “What's the riddle?"

With a wave of her hand, Amarantha points to the projector screen where line after line of text is appearing. "You have two minutes."

I need less than a second to see that Lucien and I are totally fucked.

Without technology to help me, I can read only the most basic words. Even with technology, two minutes may not have been enough to decode the long words and solve the damn riddle.

I scan it top to bottom and then bottom to top but I don't find any clues to help me. I turn to the audience but every face is just as blank as Tamlin's.

Except one. Rhysand is wearing the mask he puts on when he's playing the part of her pet but beneath the cruel humour is something familiar. The way his head is tipped slightly to one side and the way he watches me a little too closely… He's trying to work something out and it isn't the riddle.

"Feyre," Lucien groans, drawing my attention back to the front, back to the riddle. The time is almost done. "Just guess," he says through gritted teeth.

But what do I guess when the answer could be literally anything?

"I need an answer," Amarantha coos.

I glance back at the screen, hoping something, _anything_, will jump out at me but I turn back to Amarantha still with no idea what to say.

My mouth, now bone dry, opens and closes wordlessly, until-

Rain.

Inside the mountain.

And a siren wailing from all around me. And movement, people leaving, filing past me. Half the room has cleared before I understand what is happening.

Then hands roughly close around my arms and pull me into the flow of people.

I don't realise the person who has taken me by the arms is Rhys until we are into the corridor and nearing reception. The muscles in my legs seize when he tries to take me _past_ the exit - past light and freedom and safety.

"Easy," he says in that mocking voice, which makes me feel sick. I try to wriggle out of his grasp but instead he only tightens his hold.

"Let me go!" I cry, and I realise I am crying now to my shame.

Crying in shame after the last quarter of an hour. Crying for Tamlin who can do nothing but sit by and watch. Crying for Lucien who could have been my friend but will lose his career because of me. Crying for myself and the what the next few days could bring.

Rhys pushes me back into a recess in the stone wall and surrounds me with his body. It is oddly soothing, despite the mask he still wears. Then he is licking each of the tears from my face, one by one.

I'm so shocked, the tears instantly cease. One lick takes him right to the edge of my mouth, his last becomes a kiss to the corner of my eye.

When he's done he rests his mouth against my ear and whispers, "Two things, Feyre darling. One: never let her see you cry. And two: the answer is the stars."

Then I'm being pushed back towards the others, who are gathering outside. No one noticed us leave and, whatever that was, it was over so quickly that no one noticed we were missing.

Rhys keeps me apart from everyone but I almost don't notice as I become reacquainted with the outside world. The wind brushes against my damp cheeks, lifting my hair from my face and neck.

What I wouldn't give right now to stay outside, to never go back under that mountain. Except I will of course, for my friends. For Lucien.

And to beat Amarantha.

Eventually everyone is given the OK to go back in. Rhys does a fine job of dragging me back to the front of the hall, where I do my best to continue to look anxious - right up to the moment I give the correct answer and Amarantha fails to hide her fury.

It never occurred to me that Rhys might not have told me the truth. Though I would not have done on Monday, I now feel instinctively that we are on the same side, whatever Lucien and Tamlin say.

So I pass the halfway point in my time Under the Mountain and can't help feeling proud of my success.

.o0O0o.

It has gone midnight when my door opens just enough for Rhys to slip through and quietly push it closed.

"I'm awake," I tell him, from where I am sat by the fake window. Since I have the chair, he sits on my bed. He looks right there. Somehow I cannot picture Tamlin in the same position.

"How are you feeling?"

"No more crying, if that's what you mean. You were right; I mustn't let her think she's winning."

"I'm always right, Feyre darling," I let out a huff of amusement, "but I meant how are you holding up? I saw you in the hall today." There is no laughter in his voice now, "You were breaking."

"I'm fine."

"And an appalling liar it seems," I scowl at him, fully turning away as he continues, "but never mind." 

I feel the urge to thank him but more worryingly I also feel the urge to sit with him on my bed. I compromise with the former. "Thank you. For giving me the answer."

"It was no trouble."

"I think it was," I reply quietly.

He tips his head to the side, sending me a lazy smile, "and why's that?"

"Because you had to set off the fire alarm to do it." His smile widens but he neither confirms nor denies my accusation.

That smile is so warm and inviting that I feel myself drawn closer, moving to sit on the bed beside him despite my earlier better judgement. I can see him, I realise, even when he wears a mask I can _see_ him beneath it.

He interrupts my thinking. "You can't read, can you?"

"No." Being honest with him is easy - right. "But Tamlin and Lucien don't know. No one else can know."

"It would not be my place to tell anyone." He is studying me and it feels slightly uncomfortable, like he can _see_ me too. But I don't break our eye contact. "You must work very hard to hide that. I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"Because it makes Amarantha's task today even more cruel. Because you should have been in school learning to read, not out stealing food for your family. Because you shouldn't feel the need to hide anything about yourself from the people you call friends."

I shrug. "Life's not fair. Get over it."

"No, Feyre," he says, seriously, "If life's not fair, change it."

I look away. He makes it sound so easy.

When it is clear that I am not going to speak, he continues. “I'm here to propose a bargain between us. I'll continue to help you through the rest of the week, as I've helped you so far, and in return you will work for me when this is all over.”

“Work for you?”

“Yes. At Starfall, my company.”

My heart sinks. _At the company you gave to Amarantha_, I think. Out loud I say nothing.

“You'd rather get through to Friday morning on your own?”

“I might not need your help again. Plus, I have a job. At Spring. I'm happy there.”

“Ah yes, at Spring with Tamlin who values you _so much_. Well, it's your call of course, but without this deal there will be no more gifts from me.”

I’m grinding my teeth in frustration. “You could just help me anyway. Why does it have to be a game?”

He shrugs. A pause, and then, "How about a one month secondment, in return for my help."

I chew on the inside of my lip. “One week.”

He grins. "Two.”

I scowl across at him. Tamlin will hate this. I nod.

Rhys holds out his hand to me and I feel his fingers curl around mine. I feel a sudden internal tug, from him to me, as our hands touch. "Two weeks with me and you'll never want to go back to Tamlin anyway."

I roll my eyes. “You never said _when_ I have to do this secondment, maybe I'll keep you waiting.”

His grin is unfaltering, “I think you're curious already, darling. I doubt you'll keep me waiting long.”

Our hands part, he stands and leaves, looking back only once as he reached the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading this one as much as I enjoyed writing it.


	15. Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre learns something surprising from Rhys and faces Amarantha's final task.

**Chapter 15**

_When my father’s company began to collapse, the workers joined together - stood together and were heard. It didn’t save their jobs in the long term but it helped many to survive until they found more work. _

_My father ranted and raved, both to their faces and behind their backs. He never earned their trust yet he demanded it from them anyway. _ _He hated that they sided with each other rather than putting their trust in him; even though it had been his poor choices which put jobs at risk in the first place._

_He paid the price for those bad decisions. _

_He paid when the creditors took a bat to his leg. He paid when the last part of his business was sold off. He paid when his eldest daughter grew to hate him. He paid when the family home was lost. And I watched the little he had left drain away slowly with every drink, the alcohol taking his remaining quality of life - until he had paid with his health and independence too._

_I’ve also paid for my decisions and the price was equally as steep. _

***

Thursday hits me like a train, exhaustion weighing down every limb and pounding against my head. My watch tells me it’s now a little after 8am but I am not feeling rested. I only crawled under my blanket at around five this morning, after some self-inflicted insomnia.

I spent part of the night imagining the view I would have from outside this mountain, wondering how many more stars would be visible without the light pollution of Velaris.

Then a good few hours were given over to some serious thinking about the ‘Amarantha problem’. She needs to go, that much is clear. But the _how_ is still eluding me. 

However, for most of last night I was considering the two men in my life. The man I came here for, who offered me security for the first time in my life. And the man who has saved me on more than one occasion. 

Tamlin gave me a chance to relax and live for the first time. To find out who I am, beyond family provider and protector… I will always be grateful for that. Yet his silence still feels like a betrayal. Even if it's part of some master plan, even if he thinks he's keeping me safe, I have been alone here and mostly forgotten. Except by Rhys. 

He is always Rhys in my mind now, no longer Rhysand. So many feelings have attached themselves to his name and I feel all of them at once when I think about him. Irritation. Frustration and confusion. Gratitude and guilt. Comfort and safety.

Happiness. 

He finds ways to draw out a smile, even Under the Mountain. That says something; there were years when I never smiled at all. He sees me, sees through the wall I put up to keep everyone out. And I don't feel threatened by that. If anything, I'm _relieved_ \- to know there is someone out there who knows what I am and doesn't run from me. It's kind of refreshing actually, to not feel like a lie incarnate.

Hence the guilt, because _Tamlin_ should be that person, shouldn't he? He's made me into someone better, someone worth knowing and I love him for it. But what if that’s just not enough?

My thoughts twist into a snake that itself twists until its own tail is pinned between needle-like teeth. An endless cycle of gratitude and guilt...

So the jury is still out on the Tamlin vs. Rhysand debate but for now it must be shifted to the background because today is the last full day Under the Mountain. Today she will try to crush me and I must carry the weight of the mountain or fail my friends. 

With that thought, I try to walk from the bed to the sink but my knees give way. Slumped on the floor, I find that I lack the strength to get back up. Instead I rock myself gently from side to side, as I would rock my father in one of his boats of depression. It doesn’t help. 

Tears don't come this time but despair does. I curl into myself, so far that the cold floor cools my cheek. The tiniest movement has me lying on my side and I bring up my arms to cover my face; blocking out the light. Blocking out the world!

What feels like hours pass. Maybe I could stay like this forever -

A key scrapes in the door, rattling until the teeth of the key catch and then turn. I don't sit up. Mr Attor will have to carry me, I decide, because I will not get up. 

Warm hands sweep along my spine and over my hair. "Feyre." 

Yet again, _he_ is here. Whenever the void comes to take me, Rhys appears to pull me back. 

"I can't, I'm too weak and stupid." My words sound pathetic even to my own ears and are muffled by my arm. 

"Can't do what, Feyre?"

"Change my life." His hands still for a moment then continue on their soothing journey up and down my body. 

"You're neither of those things, Feyre."

I laugh quietly, with more than a hint of hysteria, "I'm lying on the floor!" 

"Hmm." Rhys shifts from crouching to kneeling and then lies down beside me, far enough away to give me space but close enough to stay connected as his hand returns to its soothing movements. "So am I." 

From this position he can now see my face and I can see his. He gives me a reassuring smile. 

"You've come to take me to her?" 

He considers me briefly and then nods. "But let's keep her waiting a little longer." 

"I _can't_ do it Rhys."

"Yes you can, just like you have every day this week. Because it's what you do - you protect the people you care about."

My voice shakes as I ask, "Do you know what's she's planning?" 

"No." He doesn't hide the worry that flickers in his eyes. "I'd offer to take you away from here but I know you won't go. Because you're _strong,_ Feyre. Strong enough to stand up for people who won't even stand up for themselves." 

I sigh and look away from those violet eyes that see too much. I seem to have three options: stay on the floor, leave with Rhys or face Amarantha. And only one of those options feels right however hard it might be. 

I sit up but go no further. Rhys copies me, taking my hands and squeezing them gently. 

"The first time I saw you, you were behind the bar at Bryaxis and you must have had some good news because your boss was offering you a drink and trying to get you to stop taking orders long enough to drink it. He said something I couldn't hear and you smiled at him, a whole face, right-up-to-your-eyes kind of smile. I swear you actually _glowed_ with happiness... You were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen."

I know exactly what day he's talking about. My school had taken part in a city-wide art competition where all the finalists had their work exhibited at a gallery up by the Rainbow. I'd been a finalist and Bill, my boss, had gone with me to the opening because none of my family were interested. 

We hadn't been able to stay long as we were both needed back at Bryaxis. But Bill had looked at all the artwork and that night, when we were back at the bar, he'd told me that mine was the most interesting piece. He told me I had something that couldn't be taught, something special and all mine. 

_And Rhys had been there. _

"But that was months before-" I stop, shaking my head, "I thought the first time you saw me was the night you walked me to the superstore?" _The first time he'd saved me. _

"That was the first time we spoke, but I'd seen you a several times by then, from a distance." 

I can only stare at him.

"You have many types of smile Feyre darling but that night was the real deal, and I'd give anything to see it for a second time. Get through this hell and then live your life. You deserve the chance to be happy."

He helps me back to my feet. _Is this kindness just his way of honouring the bargain?_ It doesn't matter. I want to repay him for every kindness he's ever given me - especially for this reminder that life can be good exactly when I most needed to hear it. But I'm no good at words. 

As we walk, slowly, towards the hall I start to wonder if Rhys and I might actually be more similar than I'd thought. And I decide that Lucien was wrong, Rhys doesn't do anything simply for his own sake. I don't believe that he is giving _everything_ to Amarantha just to protect himself.

"Who are you protecting, Rhys?" I ask, in a whisper, as though even the walls have ears. 

He glances across at me in surprise and chuckles. When he replies, it is even more quietly than me. "My family." 

The corridor feels shorter than ever. Just before we reach the hall, Rhys silently rests a hand on my shoulder. The look in his eyes tells me that he'd like to do more. But not now. Not here. I can't even smile now we are so close to _her, _I can only hope my eyes are saying everything I can't. 

The walls of the hall rise to a peak much higher than in any other room Under the Mountain, even the reception area. Though it is nothing to the height of the mountain itself, the ceiling mimics the unsteady climb from every direction. The sound of talking, which though quiet had echoed off that ceiling and out into the corridor to meet us, dies as soon as Rhys and I cross the threshold. 

Amarantha, struggling to hide her displeasure at being kept waiting, noticeably cheers when she sees me falter. Three people sit at the front of the crowd today and none of them look pleased to be there. 

Tamlin, Lucien and _Alis_. I didn't know she was staying Under the Mountain, I haven't seen her all week, but as a head of department I should have guessed.

"Our guest of honour has arrived!" Amarantha announces, "Come forward Feyre." 

I scowl but do as she says. My temper flares as I watch her whisper something to Rhys that makes his mouth tighten, a telling-off for the delay most likely. A delay I caused. 

"Today Feyre, we have a little challenge for you, to test your knowledge of Spring Publishing. No trouble, I'm sure for the rising star of Spring." I say nothing. "For every question you get right, you will save one of these three fine employees. But for every question you get wrong you must choose one of them to sadly lose their job." 

In an odd way, I've brought this on myself. I confirmed to Amarantha my greatest weakness when I panicked over her threatening Lucien's future: my pathological need to protect people. This task is clever in a way. And cruel, obviously, since she will certainly have made sure the questions are far beyond my ability to answer. 

I can see how it will go:

I'll try in vain to answer the first question, become upset, desperate in the face of failure. And when I've answered incorrectly she'll make me pick a friend to turn away. Stubbornly I'll pull myself together for question two and meet the same result. Until only one - Tamlin - is left. By then I'll be crying, in spite of Rhysand's warning. And then maybe she will allow me to walk away - to save Tamlin (for herself) or maybe she has something else planned… 

I suddenly find I don't care. And I don't feel weak or trapped. I feel strong.

And angry.

I focus my attention on Amarantha; if looks could kill, this would all be over. She smiles, "Are you ready for the first question?" 

"No." I make sure my voice is clear and loud enough for everyone to hear. 

I hadn't realised that a silent room can get quieter. 

It should have been unnerving but I'm not frightened, because I've just realised Amarantha's power comes from people playing along, from their fear either for themselves or of who she will turn her attention onto next.

"I'm done playing your games. I refuse. And I quit my job at Spring Publishing." I can see the rage building as Amarantha glares at me, so I keep talking - to win this I must keep control. "As a former-employee my actions can't decide anyone else's future. To be honest, I don't really understand why you think _you_ have that power either."

"With your lack of perseverance, it's no wonder that you know nothing about power," she spits back at me. A put-down to put me back in my place. 

"Maybe," I say, nodding to her as though she and I are discussing changes in the weather, "but while we're talking about what people don't know - you still haven't asked me the most important question." 

"What question?" she snaps. And I feel it, the shift from her to me, as we stop playing by her rules and start playing my mine. 

I have everyone's attention now. "What am I going to do next?" It is a 'pin-drop' moment, as they say. And as the idea, just the start of a thought a few moments ago, grows inside me, I feel myself smile; a genuine smile, which only unsettles Amarantha further. 

"I should thank you really because I've learnt something important from this week. I've learnt that everyone in this industry need to be protected from people like you. So I'm leaving Spring Publishing to start a workers alliance - not to meddle with these wonderful organisations, but to make sure that everyone has a voice no matter their pay grade. And to make sure that no one person can intimidate others to this extent ever again."

I look briefly at the watching crowd and see the same fire burning in their eyes as I can feel blazing inside myself. "We are stronger than you. I've seen the way you work Amarantha, you control people through fear and you play one company off against another. By keeping us divided you taught us to forget that together we are stronger than you have any hope of being."

I see Amarantha open her mouth to speak so I continue on quickly, louder than before and without the time to think the words before they leave my mouth. "So I'm going to grow my alliance until it includes employees from every company here and then I'm going to come for you because all you are is a bully. You are weak and when you've got no more threats to hide behind everyone is going to see that." I turn to the crowd again, "_Together_ we can force her out."

And then the inconceivable happens.

"I'll join your alliance," Alis says, rising to her feet. 

"So will I," says Lucien, standing beside her. 

And others stand too, all across the hall, until the whole room is on its feet. Standing with me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter to go!  
And I should be uploading at the weekend, so not long to wait :)


	16. Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amarantha's revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains descriptions of violence and injuries.

**Chapter 16 **

From that point on, time seems to run at a different speed for me compared to others in the room. I watch, suddenly an outsider again, as the CEOs call an emergency meeting, excluding Amarantha. I see people greeting each other as old friends despite not having spoken all week. 

And I see Tamlin, once more the confident and commanding man I knew from Spring Publishing. I feel content to leave them and incredibly tired given the little I have actually done today. 

For the first time since my arrival, I walk myself back to my room and leave the door not just unlocked but slightly ajar. No one will bother to disturb me now. 

I sit down on my bed and the weight of pure exhaustion pulls me down against the sheets. _Don't sleep_, I tell myself. But as there's nothing else to do, I'll just rest for five minutes...

Despite my good intentions, I certainly would have fallen asleep if not for the visitor who arrives shortly after I have gotten comfortable. But one look at Rhys' face wipes away any desire for sleep. 

He's nearly consumed with fear - though he is trying to contain it inside, I can see his whole body lightly shaking with it and his eyes are wide, unfocused. 

I'm on my feet and reaching for him before he reaches for me. "Rhys! What's the matter? It's OK now, it's over." 

But he can't be soothed. "No. No, she's just angrier now, more so than ever. Please Feyre, let me take you away from here."

"I've managed four days, I can do another night. Tomorrow morning it will officially be finished." But Rhys continues shaking his head, over and over. 

Slowly, I move one hand from his shoulder and allow my fingers slide through his hair, calming him. His eyes shutter closed, "Feyre." The sound of him breathing my name fills me with inappropriate thoughts. 

"We all go home in the morning," I whisper, letting my left hand join my right in his hair - enjoying the way it is just as smooth and silky as I'd imagined. 

"I'll try to keep her distracted until then," he says looking at a point on the wall over my shoulder. And I know what he means.

_Amarantha's whore_.

"_No_. Don’t, Rhys, _not that_." I press my forehead to his and his arms tighten around me. Even with the dancing, I think this is the closest we've ever been, touching in more places than not. And we stay close as I feel his heart rate slowing a fraction. As our breathing falls in sync.

"You're not at the CEOs meeting," I whisper, hoping to divert his thoughts away from my safety. 

"They won't have me there. To them I'm just _her_ spy."

I can hear Tamlin in those words. There is such pain in his face and I feel humbled that he allows me to see him like this but there is nothing I can say to make it better.

His eyes shine in the dim light. "Promise you'll be careful." I know he hates that I won't leave but he doesn't argue or insist. I could love him for that alone - that he lets me choose. 

Our eyes meet and with almost no space between us I can't miss the way his eyes stray to my lips and then back up again. I glance down at his mouth too, remembering the caress of his lips on my cheek, wondering what it would feel like to kiss him properly. 

I don't need to wonder for long. 

He leans in, letting me close the final distance between us. He fits his mouth to mine and I'm responding on instinct. My fingers, still tangled in his hair, rake across his scalp, down his neck and back. Rhys groans in response. 

We don't stop to breathe. Rhys holds my face as though I am precious to him. His mouth is gentle with me, his tongue strokes along my top lip and I open for him. Our tongues touch. 

But then I still - remembering Tamlin, remembering the life I will return to tomorrow. He pulls back, still keeping me in his arms; no reproach, only understanding in his expression. And yes, I am grateful but I also hate how easily he gives up on whatever _this _is. 

"Rhys…" He shakes his head, but I continue on, needing to explain, "I came here with Tamlin-" 

He stops me. "I know." 

I give up, not sure what else I was going to say anyway, and rest my cheek against his shoulder, forehead against his neck, surrounding myself with the scent of him. 

We spend another minute in silence, holding each other, and when he finally pulls away I can't find any words to give him. I don’t want to apologise or imply that I’d like to take it back, like the kiss wasn’t what we both wanted.

He has some words for me. "Close your door, Feyre. And lock it." He drops a key onto my bed on the way out. 

.oO0O0o. 

My door is locked and I have slept through from late afternoon until past sunset. A knocking at the door wakes me. 

Fear comes first, remembering how Rhys had begged me to leave, but when I hear my name called through the door I am up in an instant. 

Tamlin smiles as I let him in, a true smile of the sort I've needed from him all week. I can't be angry, we've all suffered here, in different ways. 

"You've saved us all Feyre." He pulls me in and kisses me deeply. "I knew you would be the one to free us, knew it as soon as I saw you."

I laugh weakly, "You're being ridiculous." But he is kissing me again and for a while all communication between us is purely physical. 

"Walk with me. the view of Velaris is amazing, it’s such a beautiful city at night."

I nod and take the arm he is offering. The view is beautiful, though once we are outside I catch Tamlin looking at _me_ far more often than at the view. 

A covered walkway runs along the side of the mountain, at first passing below and besides the windows of the hotel rooms - those lucky enough to have an actual view. Then the hotel ends and the path winds on with only the mountain for company. Ahead of us I can see the motorway, the occasional car headlights illuminating the road as people travel into or out of Velaris. 

Being outside has relaxed me as much as seeing Tamlin restored to his former self. I lean against him as we walk in comfortable silence. 

I want to ask if I have really lost my job - _surely_ he won't hold me to what I said this afternoon, would he? But I find myself tongue-tied. 

I don't want to break this agreeable mood. And the stars really are stunning. I'm glad Tamlin is here to watch the path because the further we wonder into the shadow of the mountain the more stars seem to appear. I can't drag my eyes away, _if only I could stay up all night and paint this sky_. 

He stops me as we near the road and gently turns us back the way we've come. And then freezes, the hand at my back tightening into the fabric of my jacket. 

Amarantha is blocking our way back. 

"Evening Tamlin. I wonder if I could have a word with your former secretary?" It seems she had not forgotten my resignation even if Tamlin has. 

"Neither of us has anything to say to you.” 

"I wouldn't get in my way Tamlin. You think your new alliance can stop me bringing down Spring Publishing? Who will Hyburn side with do you think? And remember, I have years of dirt on you, thanks to you father - I can sink you in a heartbeat." 

One look at Tamlin's face leaves me in no doubt that he believes her. 

"Just be a good little CEO and make your daddy proud - I only need her for a minute." 

To my horror Tamlin's hand drops away from my back, breaking the contact between us. 

"_Tamlin_?" But he won't meet my eyes.

With surprise on her side, Amarantha sweeps past, taking hold of me by my upper arm with a grip I knew I couldn't break. 

She takes us both far enough from Tamlin that her words won't travel. We stop right at the edge of the road. 

"No one beats me." She whispers and doesn't wait for a reply before taking me by the neck and lifting so that only my toes remain in contact with the ground. 

Cassian would have me running laps for not being ready for this attack. Now I am off the ground I can do nothing but pull at her arms._ It's too late. _

Everything slows. I try to breathe slower, making the air in my lungs last longer. Stretching every second. My awareness stretches too until I feel like I can sense everything. 

I hear the door at the far end of the walkway open and a whisper reaches me: "Feyre." Just my name but I know it is Rhys. Just as I know that it wasn't a whisper - at that distance, for me to hear him at all it must have been a shout. 

Amarantha's face is contorted with hate as she watches me gasp for air. Over her shoulder, Tamlin is pale and frozen in place. _Help me_ I silently beg. 

But. He. Doesn't. Move. 

"Feyre!" Rhys is moving, sprinting down the path, the mountain towering beside him, shouting my name - though Amarantha is yet to hear him. 

"I hope you suffer, I don't want it to be too quick," Amarantha says and I see her eyes flick to the road. I see headlights reflecting in her almost black eyes. As a smile slowly grows across her tight lipped mouth and I understand what she is going to do. 

I barely have time for a final look towards Rhys, who is closer now but still too far away, before she throws me outwards - 

"**FEYRE**!" 

\- Into the path of a car. 

…

…

…

The first impact sends me up, rolls me across the bonnet of the car and takes away my ability to judge up from down. I bounce on the roof and pain explodes down my left side. 

But then I'm in the air again and a voice in my head, Cassian’s maybe, says _relax or you'll make it worse. _

I try, I really _try_, but fear has me tensing muscles I didn't even know I had. 

Another impact is coming. Maybe it will hurt more, or maybe the worst is over. Or maybe it will _all_ be over. 

I think I'm OK with that. 

…

…

…

As my body hits the road I lose consciousness but it can only have been seconds before I wake again because the car is still screeching to a stop and I am still alone on the road. 

Another second passes and pain erupts in all parts of me at once. I feel vomit rising in my throat, it fills my mouth and keeps coming. But my body has forgotten how to move and I am choking. 

I can't breathe and I can't move. _I’ve dreamt this._ Some part of me has always known it would end like this… 

Before panic can truly set in, hands grip my neck, tilting my head just a fraction, opening my mouth. 

I am sick onto the road. Then a finger reaches into my mouth, clears my airway. A handkerchief follows, gently cleaning my chin. 

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." Sound returns and I make myself focus on Rhys' voice. Three words over and over. I can't tell if he is apologising for the finger in my mouth or for not reaching me in time. I want to tell him it's not his fault, none of it, but speech is impossible. 

Once my face is vomit free he stands, pulling a phone from his pocket. He turns away, lowers his voice, but I still hear some of the conversation. 

… _ambulance… multiple injuries… conscious_… 

Then Tamlin is beside me, running his hands over my body. Even the lightest touch is agony. His face is full of guilt though he says only my name and "stay with me." 

Why didn't _you_ stay with _me_? I want to scream. 

Beyond Tamlin, Rhys turns back to us, the hand with the phone now hanging limply at his side while his other rakes through his hair. 

Despair. That's what I see when our eyes meet.

But then Tamlin is leaning over me, completely filling my field of vision. I wish he would move. _If this is it,_ I think, _then I wish I could go with a view of the stars. _

A fresh wave of pain washes over my body and this time I give in to the darkness waiting for me. 

***

_A part of me wishes that I'd died right there, on that road as it passes the mountain. _

_They tell me that my heart stopped just before the helicopter arrived from Velaris. _

_They say two men briefly argued about who would travel with me to the hospital. _

_T_ _hey say a red haired woman was seen getting into a car. _

_I saw none of this. _

_The only part I am sure of is that had any of them looked up at the sky that night, so far from the light pollution of the city, they would have had an excellent view of the stars. _

**END OF PART ONE**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow you're still reading! Thank you for sticking with me :)  
I intend to go back through this story now and fix the mistakes I'm sure I have made and missed along the way.  
And then I will started posting Part Two: The Light Within Darkness.  
I'd like to know what worked/didn't work here so I can make changes in Part 2. I'm planning to drop the split time frame thing, maybe pick up Rhys' POV... let me know what you think.


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